"It's a pleasure to us," said Minnie. "We know that a bishop can't get on without a sanctum. My friend Bessie Langworthy's husband has one, and he's only a canon."
The bishop, smiling apologetically, followed her out of the drawing-room.
"Here we are," she said, opening a door for him. "I hope you'll find it comfortable. I dare say now that you'd like to meditate a little over your sermon."
"Do I preach while I'm here?" The bishop asked the question in a tone of surprise.
"No," said Minnie. "Not unless you particularly want to. We shan't ask you to. As a matter of fact, we none of us like sermons. But you will have to preach again some time, I suppose."
"Yes; but not for a few weeks."
"Still, you'll naturally want to meditate over your sermon whenever it has to be preached. You can't meditate too much beforehand. Bessie Langworthy's husband always went to his sanctum after tea to meditate over his sermon."
She paused for an instant and then winked at the bishop. He started violently.
"My own impression is," she added, "that he generally went to sleep."
Her eye lit on the five volumes of Paley as she spoke.
"Dear me," she said, "I thought I had those books cleared away! You don't want them, do you?"
The bishop took the volume containing the "Christian Evidences" and looked at it.
"I read Paley some years ago," he said, "and I don't think I want to read him again."
"Quite right," said Minnie. "I'll get you a different sort of book. There was an excellent one here this morning called, 'On the Edge of a Precipice.' My sister-in-law must have carried it off. I'll fetch it."
"Please don't. If she's reading it "
"She isn't. Or if she is she ought not to be. It's not at all a proper book."
"Perhaps," said the bishop, "I'd better stick to Paley, after all. The novel may be exciting."
"It is, very."
"Then it might disturb my meditation, and I was up early this morning."
"Don't say another word," said Minnie. "You're perfectly right. Dinner is at eight. If I find that you haven't heard the dressing-gong, I'll come and knock you up myself."
She left the room, but came back again a few minutes later. The bishop, with a volume of Paley on his knee, was stretched in a deep chair.
"Excuse me," said Minnie. "I left a box of cigarettes here. Why didn't you take one?"
"Thank you," said the bishop, "but I don't smoke."
Minnie took a cigarette from the box and lit it.
"Ronald thinks," she said, "that you'll be shocked at my smoking; but I told him you wouldn't mind. Bessie Langworthy's husband keeps a special box of cigarettes for me when I am with them."
"I should rather like to meet Canon Langworthy," said the bishop. "He seems to be quite a remarkable man."
"He's a dear," said Minnie. "You're sure you don't mind my smoking?"
"There is a prejudice against ladies adopting the habit," said the bishop.
"So silly, isn't it? It's not really wrong, you know, not like marrying your deceased sister's husband."
"That," said the bishop, "is distinctly forbidden in the Prayer-book."
"Quite so," said Minnie, "and even if it wasn't, I shouldn't dream of doing it. I don't see how any self-respecting girl could put up with a second-hand husband. When I marry—— But I really mustn't disturb you any more. Your sermon will be on your mind."
The bishop thought, but was not quite certain, that she winked again, as she left the room.
Dinner, that night, began badly, because Ronald insisted on trying to talk about a recent Church congress in which the bishop had taken a leading part. He was aware that there had been a prolonged discussion about the Athanasian Creed, and he tried to discover, by a series of caution questions, the bishop's opinion about the public recitation of that formula. But the bishop answered very vaguely, and did not appear to be much interested in the Athanasian Creed. He had, he thought, intercepted with his foot a kick which Minnie meant to reach her sister-in-law. It seemed to him that she was trying to call Mrs. Mendel's attention to the fact that there was something humorous about the discussion which Ronald had started. The idea of finding a latent joke in the Athanasian Creed was new to the bishop. He felt embarrassed and was afraid to commit himself to any remark, lest he should, unconsciously, contribute to the merriment in Minnie's eyes. Before the fish-plates were taken away Ronald's effort collapsed. He looked piteously at his wife, mutely urging her to start a fresh and more congenial topic. It was Minnie who came to the rescue of the party. She asked the bishop whether he knew how to crack the joint of his nose. He set down his wineglass abruptly and looked hard at her. Then he said that he did not believe that either his or any other nose had a joint. Ronald, frowning severely, said that the idea of cracking a nose was absurd. Minnie maintained that the thing could be done. By way of proving that she spoke the truth she seized her own nose, pulled it slowly down, gave it a sudden twist toward her left cheek, and produced a sharp click. The bishop appeared surprised, and asked her to be good enough to do it again. Ronald muttered something about monkey tricks. Minnie repeated her performance and this time the click sounded louder than before. Foreseeing that conversation with the bishop might be difficult, she had come down to dinner with a small watch in her hand. By snapping the case at the proper moment she secured an excellent effect. The bishop, greatly to the amusement of the servants, tried his own nose. Ronald, looking angrily at his sister, explained the trick.
"I thought," said Minnie, "that you'd like to know how to do it. With a little practice you'll be able to take in anybody. These little arts are so useful abroad, aren't they? I'm sure you'd find a thing like that most attractive to the heathen."
The bishop laughed suddenly. It may have been the idea of teaching high-caste Hindus to crack their noses that moved him. It may have been the way in which Minnie smiled at him. He seemed, for the rest of the evening, to prefer her conversation to Ronald's efforts to get back to the more orthodox subject of the Athanasian Creed.
III
It was that pleasant hour of the day between afternoon tea and the sounding of the gong which gives warning of the approach of dinner-time. Ronald Mendel and his wife sat on the gravel sweep in front of the house.
"Tomorrow," he said, with a sigh of satisfaction, "that bishop goes."
"I think," said Mrs. Mendel, "that he has enjoyed his visit. Your mother is greatly pleased. I had a letter from her this morning in which she said that she'd heard from him and——"
"Nothing could be more outrageous than Minnie's behaviour from start to finish. I've never for a moment felt safe. I've sat, so to speak, on the edge of a volcano."
"She took him off our hands," said Mrs. Mendel. "Be a little grateful, Ronald."
"She ought to be whipped."
"Ronald dear!"
"Well, she ought. Fortunately, I don't believe he understood half she said. Besides, I don't approve of dragging bishops into dangerous places. He came in wet to the waist the day she took him up the river in the punt. She must have upset him."
"He didn't seem to mind."
"No, but I did. I may not be much of a man for going to church, but I think bishops ought to be treated with some respect."
"Still," said Mrs. Mendel, "your mother seems greatly pleased."
"She