"They know no country, own no lord.
Their home the camp, their law the sword."
"Who is it?" asked Mrs. Reed, as her husband entered her sitting-room; with some curiosity, pardonable in view of the fact that a stranger had for some time been holding an interview with him in his study.
"Why," replied the Reverend Richard Reed, looking mildly absent, as was his custom when interrupted of a Saturday morning, "it is a Mr. Perley Pickens—the man, you know, who has taken the Maynard place for the summer."
"Indeed! what did he want?" cried the lady, interested at once. The Maynard house was the great house of the place, and the Maynard family the magnates of the First Parish, and the whole town of Rutland. Their going abroad for a year or two had been felt as a public loss, and when, somewhat to the general surprise, it transpired that their house was let, it was at once surmised that it could only be to "nice" people, though the new occupants had never been heard of, and were rarely seen.
"Oh, his daughter is to be married, and he wants the ceremony to take place in our church."
"You don't say so? and he wants you to marry them?"
"Certainly."
"Why, we haven't had a wedding in the church for quite a while! It will be very nice, won't it?"
"Yes, my dear; but excuse me, I am in a hurry just now. Mr. Pickens is waiting. He wants you to give him a few addresses. I gave him the sexton's——"
"It will be a good thing for poor Langford," said Mrs. Reed, benevolently.