ny. Lalage is a sure
harbinger of trouble. Crises attend her course through life. Yet I
cannot help stopping to talk to her when I get the chance. I suppose I
am moved by some obscure instinct which makes me wish to know the worst
in store for me as soon as possible.

"I'm darting on," said Lalage, "to secure Pussy Battersby, but I
stopped for a moment to tell you to go straight to the rectory."

"You can't get Miss Battersby now. She's settling flowers."

"I must. She's of the utmost importance. I must bring her back with me."

"Has the Archdeacon arrived unexpectedly?"

"No. What on earth put that into your head? Good-bye."

"Wait a minute, Lalage. Take my advice and don't go on. It's not safe.
My uncle is threatening you with all sorts of violence. You can guess
the sort of temper he's in."

"Gout?"

"No. Your letter."

"My letter? Oh, yes. I'd forgotten that letter for the moment. You mean
the one I wrote to him about the Archdeacon's marriage."

"Now you know why you'd better not go near him for a day or two."

"Silly old ass, isn't he, to lose his temper about that? But I can't
stop to argue. I must get Pussy Battersby at once. There isn't a moment
to spare."

"If the Archdeacon hasn't turned up, what on earth do you want her for?"

"The fact is," said Lalage, "that Hilda's mother is at the rectory."

"I thought she'd arrive some day. You couldn't expect to keep her at bay
forever. The wonder is that she didn't come long ago."

"She travelled by the night mail and was rather dishevelled when she
arrived, hair a bit tousled, a smut on the end of her nose and a general
look of crinklyness about her clothes. Hilda has been in floods of tears
and sobbing like a steam engine all morning."

"I don't wonder at all. Any nice-minded girl would. It can't be pleasant
for her to see her mother in such a state."

"Don't drivel," said Lalage. "Hilda isn't crying for that. She's not a
perfect idiot, whatever you may say."

"I didn't say anything of the sort. I said she was a nice-minded girl."

"Same thing," said Lalage, "and she's not either the one or the other."

"Then why is she crying?"

"Because her mother is taking her home. That's the reason I'm going for
Pussy Battersby."

"She'll be a poor substitute for Hilda," I said. "She'll boggle at
simony every time."

"What are you talking about now?"

"Miss Battersby. I'm trying to explain that she'll hardly be able to
take Hilda's place as the com