"Yes," said Miss Villiers, "and at once, if we are to act on our joint quotations, for it is only two hours until midnight; come, get your robes of office, and let us be off."
Thus it was that the ways and means did duty, the curate standing much in awe of Miss Villiers, as well as of Miss Stone; some saying the latter was his curate, others facetiously protesting that he was hers. And so she considered him not as the ambassador of Christ, but as a paid servant of her own, for so does too often the Anglican Church pay its clergy only sufficient for a dinner of herbs; knowing that man, be he priest or sinner, being a dining animal, has, at a weak moment, a craving for the "stalled ox," and if his appetite be too strong for him, sells himself, like Esau, for a "mess of pottage."
But now to return to Miss Villiers and her uncle, with the Rev. Claude Parks, as they make their entrée to Broadlawns and its oak drawing-rooms.
CHAPTER X.
A LUCIFER MATCH.
"Rev. Mr. Parks, Mr. Babbington-Cole, of whom you have heard us speak, from Canada," said Miss Villiers; and Bengough's modern curate of the conventional type flashed across the memory of poor Cole. He was a meek young man, though a true Christian, who spoke in a monotone, his hair parted, to a hair, in line with the bridge of his nose, and wearing his hands meekly folded.
After their going round and round the barometer, English and Canadian, Miss Stone said, primly:
"It matters little whether the poor carnal bodies suffer from the cold. I fear, out there, souls are cold unto death, starving for spiritual life and heat. I have been telling Mr. Babbington-Cole, and I feel sure you will coincide with me, Mr. Parks, that with so many infidels and wild Indians in his land, they should have their lamps trimmed and burning."
"You are always orthodox, Miss Stone," chanted Mr. Parks, meekly. "You look ill, Mr. Babbington-Cole; was the sea too much for you?"