Suddenly he caught sight of a shovel hat and clerical garments turning the street corner, and re-entering the room with some loss of dignity, commenced reading the "Broad Arrow" upside down. Presently there was a knock at the street door, and a stranger was shown upstairs unannounced.
"I have called," he began.
The Major rose.
"I am perfectly aware why you have called," said he. "My niece is not at home."
"No," said the visitor. "I am aware--"
"But," continued the Major, who meant to carry the thing with a high hand, and give Mr. Spooner clearly to understand what his opinions were, "she has commissioned me to deal with the matter in her name."
The Rev. John Roland--for it was the Rev. John Roland--looked somewhat mystified. He failed to see the drift of the Major's observation, and also did not fail to see that, for some reason, his reception was not exactly what he would have wished it to be.
"I regret," he began, with the Major standing bolt upright, glancing at him with an air of a martinet lecturing an unfortunate sub for neglect of duty, "that it is my painful duty--"
"Sir," said the Major, stiff as a poker, "you need regret nothing."
The Rev. John Roland looked at him. It was very kind of him to say so, but a little premature.