is morning?"

"Straightening the peas."

"Straightening the peas?" he asked, thoroughly mystified.

"Yes, they're all waggly. When I plant my garden I take a string and two
pegs and plant the seed along a line; but these just seem to be put in
anyhow."

"Is it good for the peas?" asked the Bishop suspiciously, as he saw them
being rooted up and reset.

"I can't say," she returned sharply. "But things ought to be straight at
an episcopal palace, if they are anywhere."

"So they should," he admitted mournfully, "but it's far from being the
case. That's why I came out to consult you."

"Go ahead, then. You talk, and I'll dig."

And while the plants were being arranged to an ecclesiastical standard,
he retailed to her the charges against Violet.

"Do you believe them?" she asked, jamming her trowel up to its hilt in
the soft earth.

"Of course I do not."

"Right you are," she said. "I know the whole story, and it's nothing to
be ashamed of, I give you my word."

"You relieve me immensely."

"It's merely American enterprise," continued the old lady. "That's why
they call her the Leopard."

"The Leopard-- I don't understand. She asked me to call her that."

"Well, I won't steal her thunder. She'll tell you herself."

"But she is married?"

"Oh, yes."

The Bishop sighed.

"That disappoints you?" said Mrs. Mackintosh thoughtfully, balancing a
pea-plant in her hand.

"Yes; at least I'd hoped--"

"I know. She told me. We haven't any secrets from each other."

"You see," continued his Lordship, "if my sister leaves me, I must have
some one to take her place; otherwise--"

"She won't go."

"Yes," said the Bishop; "that's just the point."

"You ought to marry at once."

"I feel that myself; but then, you see, there's no one who would care to
marry me--no one at least who--"

"You don't want a young chit."

"No," said his Lordship. "Somebody more like you."

Mrs. Mackintosh paused in her gardening.

"Look here," she said. "Are you going to propose to me next?"

"I--was--thinking of it," admitted the Bishop.

"As a last resource?"

"My dear Mrs. Mackintosh!"

"I don't know as I ever could be a bishopess," replied that lady,
inadvertently resetting a pea-plant upside down.

"There's Jonah," said the Bishop, resorting to diplomacy. "I shall never
be able to complete that last volume without the spur of your
appreciative criticism."

"Well," she replied, partially relenting, "I'd do a goo