Then there was a pause of listening, while the girl's face took on a startled expression. "The Bishop of Bunchester? Oh! I see. Very well, I'll tell Mr. Merle." And she hung up the instrument.
"It was Mr. Robert Baxter," she explained to Merle. "He is on his way here in the motor with a friend of yours."
"A friend of mine?"
"I suppose he's a friend of yours—the Bishop of Bunchester."
"Bless my soul!" exclaimed the curate. "The Bishop of Bunchester!" He took off his glasses and rubbed them nervously.
"They will be here shortly and Mr. Robert wanted me to ask you," her eyes twinkled mischievously, "I don't understand what you have to do with it, Mr. Merle, perhaps he meant Mrs. Merle, but he asked if you would please see about one of the guest rooms."
"Quite right, my child," answered the clergyman gravely. "I will take great pleasure in arranging everything for his lordship. You see, I am—I am one of the servants in the house."
With a sort of humble dignity Horatio took up the tray while Betty stared at him in puzzled interest.
"Oh, Mr. Merle!" she said. "If you don't mind leaving that tray, perhaps I might eat a little—later."
"Certainly. I'll leave it here. By the way, my dear," he paused at the door, "the difficult question—that was troubling you?"