is
one weakness was to be the centre of every group which he adorned. And
he held this position skilfully, not only by a well-bred display of
tact, such as he showed upon all occasions, but by a certain gift which
he possessed of appearing in different roles at different times,
according to his mood. Still, in spite of a tendency to a
self-convincing form of masquerading, one is fain to admit that the
village of Culversham would have lacked one of its most pleasing
figures had Canon Wrottesley been removed from it. He bore an
untarnished name, he had always a pleasant, if pompous greeting for
every one, and he preached and lived like a gentleman. He was
well-dressed and amiable, and his only display of temper or touchiness
took the rather curious form of adopting some impersonation not in
accordance with the circumstances in which for the moment he found
himself.

Mrs. Wrottesley appeared from the house, still clad in her black mantle
which had evidently not been removed while she looked over the guild
work, for it bore traces thereof upon it in morsels of cotton and the
fluff of unbleached calico.

'Come and sit beside me, love,' said her husband, indicating one of
Miss Abingdon's garden-seats in close proximity to his own cushioned
chair, 'and I will take care of you.'

Miss Abingdon smiled and looked admiringly at him. Conscience
frequently protested against her giving way to the thought, but in her
heart Miss Abingdon was convinced that Mrs. Wrottesley was not quite
worthy of her husband.

'I think I must go back to the house and finish the guild work,' said
Mrs. Wrottesley. 'I have been very slow over it this morning, but I
have got a little headache, and I have been counting up everything
wrong, which is very stupid of me.'

'How often have I told you not to work when you are tired?' said the
canon, shaking his finger reprovingly at her.

'I 'll finish the guild work,' exclaimed Jane, 'and I 'll make Peter
come and help me.'

Miss Erskine, who had been sitting upon one of her feet and swinging
the other, rose impulsively from the garden-seat and covered the lawn
in a series of hops, until her shoe, which had become hopelessly
entangled in the laces of her petticoat, released itself with a rending
sound. Then she removed her hand from Peter's shoulder, upon which she
had been supporting herself, and together they went into the house.

'And this,' thought Miss Abingdon ruefully, 'is courtship as it