is the second present I have had to-day. Look here! Your brother gave me this.’ She showed the porcelain cup and saucer.
‘Lord Saltcombe gave you that! What—have you been talking to and astonishing him?’
‘Yes,’ said the girl, ‘I did astonish him a bit. He gave me this; but I like your flowers best.’
‘I must leave you now; I saw my father return in the carriage.’ Lady Grace hesitated a moment, looked questioningly at Joanna, and then touched her, drew her to her, and pressed a light kiss on her brow. ‘We are travellers over one pass. Some ascend as others go down; as they meet and pass, they salute,’ she said, and slipped away.
The Venerable the Archdeacon of Wellington, Bachelor of Divinity, Canon of Glastonbury, Rector of Sleepy Hollow, and Chaplain to his Grace the Duke of Kingsbridge, was sitting in his study with his wife one morning in November, discussing the list of poor people to whom Christmas benefactions were to be given.
The Archdeacon regarded himself, and was regarded, as a man of business. He was secretary to several diocesan societies; he was a stay to the Kingsbridge family. Whenever a spasm recurred in the financial condition of the Eveleighs, a telegram summoned him to South Devon, and he spent some hours in consultation with the steward at Court Royal. When he returned to Somersetshire he felt that his presence had been of use. So it had on more occasions than one, for he had advanced money to relieve the strain.
‘Really,’ said Lady Elizabeth Eveleigh—the Venerable the Archdeaconess, and Grey Mare of Sleepy Hollow—‘I think we do a great deal more than is necessary. There are the coal club, and the clothing club, and the blanket club, and the shoe club, and the Sunday school club, and the widows’ alms, and the three yards of flannel to every married woman in the place, and the Christmas largess and the Christmas beef.