" The arrival of the pot of marmalade
(that integral part of the mysterious meal which begins with meat and is
crowned with buns) had been hailed by the exclamation, "What! More
family jars." In short, Mr. Gresley was himself again.
The jocund Vicar, with his arm round Mrs. Gresley, proceeded to the
drawing-room.
On the hall table was a large parcel insured for two hundred pounds. It
had evidently just arrived by rail.
"Ah! ha!" said Mr. Gresley. "My pamphlets at last. Very methodical of
Smithers insuring them for such a large sum," and, without looking at
the address, he cut the string.
"Well packed," he remarked. "Water-proof sheeting, I do declare.
Smithers is certainly a cautious man. Ha! at last!"
The inmost wrapping shelled off, and Mr. Gresley's jaw dropped. Where
were the little green and gold pamphlets entitled "Modern Dissent," for
which his parental soul was yearning? He gazed down frowning at a solid
mass of manuscript, written in a small, clear hand.
"This is Hester's writing," he said. "There is some mistake."
He turned to the direction on the outer cover.
"Miss Hester Gresley, care of Rev. James Gresley." He had only seen his
own name.
"I do believe," he said, "that this is Hester's book, refused by the
publisher.
Pages:
322
323
324
325
326
327
328
329
330
331
332
333
334
335
336
337
338
339
340
341
342
343
344
345
346