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 small salary with his mother, but he thought Colonel Berkeley's society rather dangerous for a clergyman. He used too many expletives, and was altogether too free in his notions of what a churchman should be—for the Colonel was a stanch churchman, and would have sworn like a pirate at anybody who questioned his orthodoxy.

"Doing missionary work, hay, Mr. Cole?" continued Colonel Berkeley, while Olivia and Mr. Cole shook hands.

A faint pink mounted into the clergyman's face. His curiosity had got the better of him, but the excellent little man fancied it was his Christian charity that won the victory.

"Well, Colonel," he begun, "upon reflection I concluded it was my duty to call on Madame Koller. I wasn't in this parish—in fact, I wasn't ordained at the time Madame Koller was Miss Eliza Peyton, and Madame Schmidt was Mrs. Edward Peyton. And being the niece of my excellent friend—Mrs. Sally Peyton—"

"Excellent friend, eh—well, don't you trust Sally Peyton too far, my good fellow. She was a mighty uncertain kind of a friend thirty or forty years ago—not that I have any particular reason for saying so. But you are quite right in paying your respects to Eliza Peyton—I mean Madame Koller, and I only hope she'll find our society agreeable enough to stay here."

A considerable wait ensued. Olivia had begun to wonder how long it took Madame Koller to