in the stillness.

“You—you have a relative to—er—fall back upon,” said poor Andy.

Mrs. Petch took a drink of water and passed a handkerchief across her eyes, then she asked faintly—“What relative?”

“One named—er—William,” said Andy. “I understand——”

“T-that’s William!” interrupted Mrs. Petch, pointing to the parrot; then she laughed hysterically and burst into tears. “We get five shillings a week from an old mistress of mine as long as the parrot lives. And for that my poor husband is to lose his place. Oh, it’s hard—it’s cruel hard.”

Andy stood up, rather upset, but determined now to go through with it.

“Look here,” he said. “That’s not the only reason. I gather that your husband is addicted to drink.” Andy paused and elevated his chin. “A clergyman’s household must be above reproach.”

“It’s not true,” said Mrs. Petch eagerly. “He’s always so much livelier than the other men at Gaythorpe that when he gets a glass and is a bit livelier still, they think he’s drunk.”“Good-morning, Mrs. Jebb,” said Andy, attempting to slip by. Mrs. Jebb, however, had evidently determined to oppose his progress, if only for a moment. She gave a little laugh, glancing up at him archly. “Now what do you suppose?” she inquired. Andy paused, a trifle unwillingly. “What, Mrs. Jebb?” he asked, with a faint smile. “Do you know it's just three weeks to a day since you came here?” said Mrs. Jebb, tapping him lightly on the arm with her duster.

Andy looked uncomfortable. “Really, is it, Mrs. Jebb? Time flies,” he remarked vaguely, and made a further effort to pass. But Mrs. Jebb was not to be put off in that way. “Now don’t you go denying it,” she said sarcastically. “Three weeks off a month—there!” She made a little playful dart at him and got behind a chair. Andy retreated to the porch. “Well, I must be going out,” he said hastily. “I've got a call to pay.” “You've been very busy lately, sir,” she observed, watching him. “Yes, I have,” he admitted. “I’ve been away giving mother a little holiday—her first for years, poor dear.” “You can't do too much for a good mother,” remarked Mrs. Jebb, with her head on one side. Andy was in the hall now, and opening the door. “Good-morning,” he said, and vanished. Mrs. Jebb looked after him with her eye-corners. “‘Three weeks off a month—there!’” she repeated, with a little snort. “I wonder if the gentleman’s going to be a single man.”

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