Hodder was surprised. He had never heard Mr. Bentley speak of the bishop. Of course he must know him.
“I have my talk with him to-morrow.”
Mr. Bentley said nothing, but pressed his hand again....
On Tower Street, from the direction of the church, he beheld a young man and a young woman approaching him absorbed in conversation. Even at a distance both seemed familiar, and presently he identified the lithe and dainty figure in the blue dress as that of the daughter of his vestryman, Francis Ferguson. Presently she turned her face, alight with animation, from her companion, and recognized him.
“It's Mr. Hodder!” she exclaimed, and was suddenly overtaken with a crimson shyness. The young man seemed equally embarrassed as they stood facing the rector.
“I'm afraid you don't remember me, Mr. Hodder,” he said. “I met you at Mr. Ferguson's last spring.”
Then it came to him. This was the young man who had made the faux pas which had caused Mrs. Ferguson so much consternation, and who had so manfully apologized afterwards. His puzzled expression relaxed into a smile, and he took the young man's hand.
“I was going to write to you,” said Nan, as she looked up at the rector from under the wide brim of her hat. “Our engagement is to be announced Wednesday.”
Hodder congratulated them. There was a brief silence, when Nan said tremulously:
“We're coming to St. John's!”