He has a great whim for black
cattle, and he sends that drunken old Scotch bailiff of his to Scotland
every year, with hundreds in his pocket, to buy these beasts.'

'By the by,' said Mr. Ely, 'do you know who is the man to whom Lord
Watling has given the Bramhill living?'

'A man named Sargent. I knew him at Oxford. His brother is a lawyer, and
was very useful to Lord Watling in that ugly Brounsell affair. That's why
Sargent got the living.'

'Sargent,' said Mr. Ely. 'I know him. Isn't he a showy, talkative fellow;
has written travels in Mesopotamia, or something of that sort?'

'That's the man.'

'He was at Witherington once, as Bagshawe's curate. He got into rather
bad odour there, through some scandal about a flirtation, I think.'

'Talking of scandal,' returned Mr. Fellowes, 'have you heard the last
story about Barton? Nisbett was telling me the other day that he dines
alone with the Countess at six, while Mrs. Barton is in the kitchen
acting as cook.'

'Rather an apocryphal authority, Nisbett,' said Mr. Ely.

'Ah,' said Mr. Cleves, with good-natured humour twinkling in his eyes,
'depend upon it, that is a corrupt version. The original text is, that
they all dined together _with_ six--meaning six children--and that Mrs.
Barton is an excellent cook.'

'I wish dining alone together may be the worst of that sad business,'
said the Rev. Archibald Duke, in a tone implying that his wish was a
strong figure of speech.

'Well,' said Mr. Fellowes, filling his glass and looking jocose, 'Barton
is certain either the greatest gull in existence, or he has some cunning
secret,--some philtre or other to make himself charming in the eyes of a
fair lady. It isn't all of us that can make conquests when our ugliness
is past its bloom.'

'The lady seemed to have made a conquest of him at the very outset,' said
Mr. Ely. 'I was immensely amused one night at Granby's when he was
telling us her story about her husband's adventures. He said, "When she
told me the tale, I felt I don't know how,--I felt it from the crown of
my head to the sole of my feet."'

Mr. Ely gave these words dramatically, imitating the Rev. Amos's fervour
and symbolic action, and every one laughed except Mr. Duke, whose
after-dinner view of things was not apt to be jovial. He said,--'I think
some of us ought to remonstrate with Mr. Barton on the scandal he is
causing. He is not only imperilling his own soul, but the souls of his
flock.'

'Depend upon