His Lordship's Leopard Part 36

Spotts--"

"Must be stopped at all costs!" cried his Lordship, growing very red in the face with agitation.

"I thought you'd feel so," said his son. "And that's why I ventured--"

At this moment Miss Matilda entered the room.

"What are you talking about, Josephus?" she demanded, a.s.suming a domination of which she felt by no means sure. "Did I hear you mention that hussy's name?"

"I was speaking," said the Bishop, "of _Miss Arminster_. Cecil tells me she's to marry Mr. Spotts."

"That's impossible," snapped Miss Matilda.

"What do you mean?" asked her brother.

"I mean what I say. While you were shamelessly gallivanting down the Channel, I went over to the little church near the ruined abbey which you visited the day you met Mr. Marchmont, and there I found a record of the marriage, in 1895, of this _person_ who calls herself _Miss_ Arminster, and I say she can't marry Mr. Spotts."

"Why not?"

"Because she's married to him already!"

CHAPTER VII.

IN WHICH MISS ARMINSTER VERIFIES THE PROVERB.

The Bishop was pacing his garden. He was far from happy. It is true he had not been worsted in his encounter with his sister. There had been a drawn battle, and he had retired with dignity, conceding nothing but that he would ask Miss Arminster to come to his study at noon and explain her position. He could not believe the charges against the charming Violet, but nevertheless he felt decidedly uncomfortable: for even if she cleared herself, she was still married, and the palace lacked a mistress.

It was easy to say that Miss Matilda should be deposed, but who should take her place? Not another man's wife, certainly. For the first time in all these years, his Lordship realised how lonely he had been. He should have remarried long before, and indeed even so unworldly a person as he knew that more than one young lady in Blanford would have viewed with complacency the prospect of becoming Mrs. Bishop.

A young wife, however, even as attractive as the fair Violet, was not, he told himself, exactly what he wanted. He had tried a period of double rule in which his sister was the power behind the throne, and it was infinitely worse than the present regime. No; if he took another helpmate, she must be a person of strong will, some one who could hold her own against all comers, some one who should have an inexhaustible fund of sympathy for his work, some one whose appreciation of the exalted position of the Bishop of Blanford should be so great as to blind her, occasionally at least, to those minor faults to which, Scripture tells us, all flesh is heir.

It was at just this point in his meditations that his Lordship, turning sharply round the corner of a large gooseberry-bush, came suddenly upon Mrs. Mackintosh. Their surprise was mutual, for the good lady had evidently been gardening, and was suffering from the rigour of the game.

"That head man of yours is a duffer," she said sharply, pointing a very earthy trowel at the unconscious figure of the gardener, who was busy in the middle distance digging potatoes. "A man," she continued, "who calls a plain, every-day squash a vegetable marrow isn't fit to run a well-ordered truck-patch; though it's no more than might be expected in a country where they sell bread by the yard, and flour by the gallon.

And what, I should like to know, is a 'punnet'?"

"I'm afraid, madam, I must confess my ignorance," replied the Bishop.

"I thought as much," she retorted. "And yet they put you in command of a diocese. Your gardener said to me this morning: 'I'll pick a "punnet" of strawberries to-day.' 'You'll do nothing of the kind,' I told him.

'Pick them in a Christian basket, or not at all.'"

His Lordship laughed.

"It's some sort of measure, I imagine," he remarked.

"I shouldn't wonder. And your cook's just as bad. She asked me yesterday if I liked jugged hare. 'Let me see your jug,' said I, 'and then I'll tell you.' And as sure's I'm a sinner, she told me she never used one for that dish!"

"Now you speak of it," said his Lordship, "I don't think I ever saw one myself. But what are you doing this morning?"

"Straightening the peas."

"Straightening the peas?" he asked, thoroughly mystified.

"Yes, they're all waggly. When I plant my garden I take a string and two pegs and plant the seed along a line; but these just seem to be put in anyhow."

"Is it good for the peas?" asked the Bishop suspiciously, as he saw them being rooted up and reset.

"I can't say," she returned sharply. "But things ought to be straight at an episcopal palace, if they are anywhere."

"So they should," he admitted mournfully, "but it's far from being the case. That's why I came out to consult you."

"Go ahead, then. You talk, and I'll dig."

And while the plants were being arranged to an ecclesiastical standard, he retailed to her the charges against Violet.

"Do you believe them?" she asked, jamming her trowel up to its hilt in the soft earth.

"Of course I do not."

"Right you are," she said. "I know the whole story, and it's nothing to be ashamed of, I give you my word."

"You relieve me immensely."

"It's merely American enterprise," continued the old lady. "That's why they call her the Leopard."

"The Leopard-- I don't understand. She asked me to call her that."

"Well, I won't steal her thunder. She'll tell you herself."

"But she is married?"

"Oh, yes."

The Bishop sighed.

"That disappoints you?" said Mrs. Mackintosh thoughtfully, balancing a pea-plant in her hand.

"Yes; at least I'd hoped--"

"I know. She told me. We haven't any secrets from each other."

"You see," continued his Lordship, "if my sister leaves me, I must have some one to take her place; otherwise--"

"She won't go."