“He seems to me to be very comfortable where he is,” said Miss Mackenzie.

“I dare say. It must be rather a bore for him having to live in the house with old Peters. How Peters scraped his money together, nobody ever knew yet; and you are aware, Miss Mackenzie, that old as he is, he keeps it all in his own hands. That house, and everything that is in it, belongs to him; you know that, I dare say.”

Miss Mackenzie, who could not keep herself from being a little interested in these matters, said that she had not known it.

“Oh dear, yes! and the carriage too. I’ve no doubt Stumfold will be all right when the old fellow dies. Such men as Stumfold don’t often make mistakes about their money. But as long as old Peters lasts I shouldn’t think it can be quite serene. They say that she is always cutting up rough with the old man.”

“She seemed to me to behave very well to him,” said Miss Mackenzie, remembering the carriage of the tea-cup.

“I dare say it is so before company, and of course that’s all right; it’s much better that the dirty linen should be washed in private. Stumfold is a clever man, there’s no doubt about that. If you’ve been much to his house, you’ve probably met his curate, Mr Maguire.”

“I’ve only been there once, but I did meet Mr Maguire.”

“A man that squints fearfully. They say he’s looking out for a wife too, only she must not have a father living, as Mrs Stumfold has. It’s astonishing how these parsons pick up all the good things that are going in the way of money.” Miss Mackenzie, as she heard this, could not but remember that she might be regarded as a good thing going in the way of money, and became painfully aware that her face betrayed her consciousness.

“You’ll have to keep a sharp look out,” continued Mr Rubb, giving her a kind caution, as though he were an old familiar friend.

“I don’t think there’s any fear of that kind,” said Miss Mackenzie, blushing.

“I don’t know about fear, but I should say that there is great probability; of course I am only joking about Mr Maguire. Like the rest of them, of course, he wishes to feather his own nest; and why shouldn’t he? But you may be sure of this, Miss Mackenzie, a lady with your fortune, and, if I may be allowed to say so, with your personal attractions, will not want for admirers.”

Miss Mackenzie was very strongly of opinion that Mr Rubb might not be allowed to say so. She thought that he was behaving with an unwarrantable degree of freedom in saying anything of the kind; but she did not know how to tell him either by words or looks that such was the case. And, perhaps, though the impertinence was almost unendurable, the idea conveyed was not altogether so grievous; it had certainly never hitherto occurred to her that she might become a second Mrs Stumfold; but, after all, why not? What she wanted was simply this, that something of interest should be added to her life. Why should not she also work in the vineyard, in the open quasiclerical vineyard of the Lord’s people, and also in the private vineyard of some one of the people’s pastors? Mr Rubb was very impertinent, but it might, perhaps, be worth her while to think of what he said. As regarded Mr Maguire, the gentleman whose name had been specially mentioned, it was quite true that he did squint awfully.