"But it's true," he insisted, "something did have hold of my toe. It wasn't a dog, but—look! You can see where its tooth went through my boot. It's lucky I wear long ones, isn't it? Otherwise it might have gone through my foot. Do you see?"
"Yes, sir, I see," answered the girl, checking her hilarity as she recognized, in spite of his battered condition, a wearer of the cloth. And, sure enough, there in the toe of his left boot was a small, round hole to which the curate pointed proudly.
"You couldn't possibly guess what made that hole," he declared, "not in a hundred guesses, so I'll tell you. It was a mole trap. Fancy that! You know, they set them on the golf course and I poked my toe right into one. A mole trap, of all things!" Then, glancing anxiously at his watch, "Half past three! Bless my soul! I can't possibly get back to Ipping House before four o'clock."
At the mention of Ipping House the Storm girl looked at him with startled interest and forthwith her whole manner changed.
"Is that where you live?" she asked.
"That's where I am visiting," answered Merle, and his face clouded as he thought of Harriet. "Ah, well, we must make the best of it," he sighed. "That little field mouse is happy and—my dear young lady, I cannot express to you my gratitude for the admirable way in which you came to my rescue."
"Oh, that's all right."
"Allow me to present myself. I am the Reverend Horatio Merle. I judge by your appearance and—er—accent that you are a stranger in this region?"
"Yes," answered Hester, with a quiver of hesitation, "I—I just got off the train."
Horatio was immediately interested. "The train from London?"