"Then he asked me again; twice again. And then there came,—oh, such a quarrel between him and papa. It was so terrible. Do you know, I believe they wouldn't speak in the vestry! Not but what each of them has the highest possible opinion of the other. But of course Mr. Saul couldn't marry on a curacy. When I think of it it really seems that he must have been mad."
"But you don't think him so mad now, dear?"
"He doesn't know a word about it yet; not a word. He hasn't been in the house since, and papa and he didn't speak,—not in a friendly way,—till the news came of poor Hugh's being drowned. Then he came up to papa, and, of course, papa took his hand. But he still thinks he is going away."
"And when is he to be told that he needn't go?"
"That is the difficulty. Mamma will have to do it, I believe. But what she will say, I'm sure I for one can't think."
"Mrs. Clavering will have no difficulty."
"You mustn't call her Mrs. Clavering."
"Lady Clavering then."
"That's a great deal worse. She's your mamma now,—not quite so much as she is mine, but the next thing to it."
"She'll know what to say to Mr. Saul."