egun.
I want"--here she unfolded her scrap of paper and made pretence to
read--"I want to see the Reverend Doctor Purdie J. Glasson."

"Then you can't," snapped the woman, and was about to shut the door in
her face, but desisted and drew back with a cry as a formidable yellow
dog slipped through the opening, past her skirts, and into the garden.

It was 'Dolph, of course. Anxiety for his mistress had been too much
for him, and had snapped the bonds of obedience; and knowing full well
that he was misbehaving, he had come up furtively, unperceived.
But now, having crossed the Rubicon, the rogue must brazen things out--
which he did by starting a cat out of one of the dingy laurels,
chivvying her some way into the house, and returning to shake himself on
the front doorstep and bark in absurd triumph.

"'Dolph! 'Dolph!" called Tilda.

"Belongs to you, does he? Then fetch him out at once! You, and your
dogs!"

"I'm fetchin' him fast as I can."

Tilda pushed past her, and advanced sternly to the front doorstep.
"'Dolph, come here!" she commanded. 'Dolph barked once again defiantly,
then laid himself down on the step in abject contrition, rolling over on
his back and lifting all four legs skyward.

Tilda rolled him sideways with a slap, caught him by the scruff of the
neck, and began to rate him soundly. But a moment later her grasp
relaxed as a door opened within the passage, and at the sound of a
footstep she looked up, to see a tall man in black standing over her and
towering in the doorway.

"What is the meaning of this noise?" demanded the man in black. He was
elderly and bald, with small pig-eyes, grey side-whiskers, and for mouth
a hard square slit much like that of the collecting-box by the gate.
A long pendulous nose came down over it and almost met an upthrust lower
jaw. He wore a clerical suit, with a dingy white neck-tie; the skin
about his throat hung in deep folds, and the folds were filled with an
unpleasing grey stubble.

"If--if you please, sir, I was comin' with a message, an' he started
after a cat. I can't break 'im of it."

"Turn him out," said the man in black. He walked to the gate and held
it open while Tilda ejected Godolphus into the street. "I never allow
dogs on my premises."

"No, sir."

"Now tell me your message."

"It's about a--a boy, sir," stammered Tilda, and felt a horrible fear
creeping over her now that she approached the crisis. "That is, if
you're the Reverend