"Mr. Jamieson is so anxious to know all that is going on," explained Lady Laura, with a voluble frankness. "He thinks it so necessary to be abreast of the times, as he said to me the other day."
Laurie assented, grimly pitying the young man for his indiscreet confidences. The clergyman looked priggish in his efforts not to do so.
"He has a class of young men on Sundays," continued the hostess—"(Another biscuit, Maud darling?)—whom he tries to interest in all modern movements. He thinks it so important."
Mr. Jamieson cleared his throat in a virile manner.
"Just so," he said; "exactly so."
"And so I told him he must really come and meet Mr. Vincent.... I can't think why he is so late; but he has so many calls upon his time, that I am sure I wonder—"
"Mr. Vincent," announced the footman.
A rather fine figure of a man came forward into the room, dressed in much better taste than Laurie somehow had expected, and not at all like the type of an insane dissenting minister in broadcloth which he had feared. Instead, it was a big man that he saw, stooping a little, inclined to stoutness, with a full curly beard tinged with grey, rather overhung brows, and a high forehead, from which the same kind of curly greyish hair was beginning to retreat. He was in a well-cut frock-coat and dark trousers, with the collar of the period and a dark tie.
Lady Laura was in a flutter of welcome, pouring out little sentences, leading him to a seat, introducing him, and finally pressing refreshments into his hands.
"It is too good of you," she said; "too good of you, with all your engagements.... These gentlemen are most anxious.... Mrs. Stapleton of course you know.... And you will just sit and talk to us ... like friends ... won't you.... No, no! no formal speech at all ... just a few words ... and you will allow us to ask you questions...."