suppose
she has it now.

When they had been there about an hour, Mr Liversedge came in. He does
not visit Sophy often; I fancy he is too busy; but Tuesday evening is
usually his leisure time, so far as he can be said to have one, and he
generally spends it here when he can. He and Ambrose presently fell
into discourse upon the parish, and somehow they got to talking of what
a clergyman's duties were. Ambrose thought if he baptised and married
and buried people, and administered the sacrament four times a year, and
preached every month or so, and went to see sick people when they sent
for him, he had done all that could be required, and might quite
reasonably spend the rest of his time in hunting either foxes or Latin
and Greek, according as his liking led him.

"You think Christ spent His life so?" asked Mr Liversedge, in that very
quiet tone in which he says his sharpest things, and which reminds me so
often of Colonel Keith.

Ambrose looked as if he did not know what to say; and before he had
found out, Mr Liversedge went on,--

"Because, you see, He left me an example, that I should follow His
steps."

"Mr Liversedge, I thought you were orthodox."

"I certainly should have thought so, as long as I quoted Scripture,"
said the Vicar.

"But, you know, nobody does such a thing," said Ambrose.

"Then is it not high time somebody should?"

"Mr Liversedge, you will never get promotion, if that be the way you
are going on."

"In which world?"

"`Which world'! There is only one."

"I thought there were two."

Ambrose fidgetted uneasily on his chair.

"I tell you what, my good Sir, you are on the way to preach your church
empty. The pews have no souls to be saved, I believe,"--and Ambrose
chuckled over his little joke.

"What of the souls of the absent congregation?" asked Mr Liversedge.

"Oh, they'll have to get saved elsewhere," answered Ambrose.

"Then, if they do get saved, what reason shall I have to regret their
absence? But suppose they do not, Mr Catterall,--is that my loss or
theirs?"

"Why couldn't you keep them?" said Ambrose.

"At what cost?" was the Vicar's answer.

"A little more music and rather less thunder," said Ambrose, laughing.
"Give us back the anthem--you have no idea how many have taken seats at
All Saints' because of that. And do you know your discarded singers are
there?"

"All Saints' is heartily welcome to everybody that has gone there,"
replied Mr Liversedge.