every Wednesday I sit on the judgment seat
in Drumbo and agree with the stipendiary magistrate in administering
justice. I am also a churchwarden and the Archdeacon is well aware of
what that means. He would be the first to admit that these are
solemn realities. I don't see what more I can do, unless I stand for
Parliament. I suppose a constituency might be found somewhere which
would value a man with a good temper and a little money to spare."

"Perhaps," said my mother smiling, "we'll find that constituency for you
some day."

This was the first hint I ever got of my unfortunate destiny. It gave
me a feeling of chill. There is nothing I want less than a seat in
Parliament; but nothing seems more certain now than that I shall get
one. Even then, when my mother made her first smiling reference to the
subject, I knew in my heart that there was no escape for me.

CHAPTER III

Lalage's departure from our midst took place early in September and
happened on a Wednesday, the day of the Drumbo Petty Sessions. Our list
of malefactors that week was a particularly short one and I was able
to leave the court house in good time to see Lalage off at the railway
station. I was in fact, in very good time and arrived half an hour
before the train was advertised to leave. Canon Beresford and Lalage
were there before me. The Canon, when I came upon them, was pressing
Lalage to help herself to chocolate creams from a large box which he
held open in his hand. He greeted me with an apologetic quotation:

"Nunc vino peilite curas
Cras ingens iterabimus sequor."

"When you come home for the Christmas holidays, Lalage," I said, "you'll
be able to translate that. In the meanwhile I may as well tell you that
it means----"

"You needn't," said Lalage. "Father has told me four times already. He
has been saying it over and over ever since breakfast. It means that I
may as well eat as much as I can now because I shall be sick to-morrow
any way. But that's all humbug, of course. I shouldn't be sick if I
ate the whole box. Last Christmas I ate three boxes as well as plum
pudding."

I felt snubbed. So, I think, did the Canon. Lalage smiled at us, but
more in pity than in balm.

"I call this rather a scoop for me," said Lalage.

"I'm glad of that," I said, "for I've brought a bottle of French plums
from my mother and a box of Turkish Delight which I bought out of my own
money."

"Thanks," said Lalage. "But it wasn't the c