was a clergyman;
and on Sunday we saw him in the desk and the draughtsman in the
parsonage pew; and we discovered that these were the proposed new
curate, Mr. Cradock, and his younger brother. Our rector was a canon
who had bad health and never came near us, and the poor old curate was
past work, and, indeed, died a week or two after he had given up.

I saw that younger brother colour up to the roots of his bright hair as
Jaquetta walked up the aisle, in her drawn black silk bonnet with the
pink lining (made by herself); and I think she coloured too, for she
was rosier than usual when we faced round in the corners of our pew.

We saw no more of them for a month, and a dainty, bridal-looking little
lady appeared in the parsonage seat, with white ribbons in her straw
bonnet, and modest little orange flowers in the frill round her
pleasant face.

Mrs. Cradock she was, we heard; and not only Miss Prior, but Fulk,
wanted us to call on her.

"What's the use?" said I. "Farmers' families are not on visiting terms
with the ladies of the parsonage."

Poor Jaquey uttered an "Oh dear!" but she and Fulk knew I was past
moving in that mood.

However, one morning in the next week, in walked Fulk into the
keeping-room, and the clergyman with him, and found Jaquey and me
standing at the long table under the window, peeling and cutting up
apples for apple-cheese.

"Mr. Cradock, my sister," he said, just in the old tone when he brought
a friend into our St. James's-street drawing-room; and he hardly gave
time for the shaking of hands before he had returned to the discussion
about the change of ministry, just with the voice and animation I had
not seen for two whole years.

We went on with our apples. For one thing, we were not wanted; for
another, there was no fire in the little parlour, and the gentlemen
both seemed to be enjoying the bright one that was burning on the
hearth.

The only difficulty was that dinner time began to approach. The men
could not be kept waiting; and I heard Alured awake from his sleep,
pattering about and shouting; and as we began to gather up our apples
one of the maids peeped in with a table-cloth over her arm.

Mr. Cradock saw, though Fulk did not, and said his wife would expect
him; and then he looked most pleasantly to me, and said he was not at
all wanted at home, while his wife was luxuriating in a settlement of
furniture; but this was, he was assured, the last day of confusion, and
to