"That's very rude, Eugene," said Kate, in reproving tones. "Admiration for a saint is not madness. Shall we go in, Claudia, and leave these men to pipes and beer?"
"One for you, Rector!" chuckled Bob Territon, who knew no reverence.
The two girls departed somewhat scornfully, arm in arm, and the Rector too rose with a sigh, and accompanied the elder ladies to the house, whither they were going to meet the pony carriage that stood at the hall door. A daily drive was part of Mrs. Lane's ritual.
"By the way, you fellows," Eugene resumed, throwing himself on the grass, "I may as well mention that Stafford doesn't drink, or eat meat, or smoke, or play cards, or anything else."
"What a peculiar beggar!" said Bob.
"Yes, and he's peculiar in another way," said Eugene, a little dryly; "he particularly objects to any remark being made on his habits—I mean on what he eats and drinks and so on."
"There I agree," said Bob; "I object to any remarks on what I eat and drink"; and he look a long pull at the beer.
"You must treat him with respect, young man. Haddington, I know, will study him as a phenomenon. I can't protect him against that."
Mr. Haddington smiled and remarked that such revivals of mediævalism were interesting, if morbid; and having so delivered himself, he too went his way.
"That chap's considered very clever, isn't he?" asked Bob of his host, indicating Haddington's retreating figure.