"How do you do, Mr. Highlands?" she enquired, as the ruffled Milroy, shaken off like an importunate limpet, disappeared into the dining-room.
"My name," replied the visitor apologetically, "is Rylands--not Highlands."
"How stupid of me!" said Lady Adela condescendingly. "But my butler is a most inarticulate person, and in any case we give him the benefit of the doubt where H's are concerned."
"It's of no consequence," Mr. Rylands assured her. "Oh, I beg your pardon!"
He picked up his walking-stick, which had fallen upon the polished floor with a shattering crash, and continued breathlessly:--
"The fact is, Lady Adela, the Archdeacon asked me to come round this afternoon and warn Mr.--Mr.--" he was uncertain of Mr. Mainwaring's exact status and title, so decided to hedge--"your husband, about the First Lesson in to-morrow morning's service. The Arch-deacon--"
"Be seated, Mr. Rylands," said Lady Adela, in the voice which she reserved for golfers, politicians, and other people who attempted to talk shop in her presence. "My husband will be downstairs presently. This is my--"
"The Archdeacon," continued the conscientious Rylands, "thinks it would be better to substitute an alternative Lesson--"
At this point his walking-stick, which he had after several efforts succeeded in leaning against the corner of the mantelpiece, fell a second time upon the floor, and a further hail of apology followed.
"--An alternative Lesson to-morrow morning," he resumed pertinaciously, "in view of the fact that certain passages--"