'The Reverend--what's his name? the Reverend Marcus Cope, Friarswood,
near Elbury,' read Alfred; 'one, two, three letters, and a newspaper.
Yes, and this long printed-looking thing. Who is he, Ellen?'

'What did you say?' said Ellen, who was busy shaking her mother's
bed, and had not heard at the first moment, but now turned eagerly;
'what did you say his name was?'

'The Reverend Marcus Cope,' repeated Alfred. 'Is that another new
parson?'

'Why, did not we tell you what a real beautiful sermon the new
clergyman preached on Sunday? Mr. Cope, so that's his name. I
wonder if he is come to stay.--Mother,' she ran to the head of the
stairs, 'the new clergyman's name is the Reverend Mr. Marcus Cope.'

'He don't live at Ragglesford, I hope!' cried Harold, who regarded
any one at the end of that long lane as his natural enemy.

'No, it only says Friarswood,' said Ellen. 'You'll have to find out
where he lives, Harold.'

'Pish! it will take me an hour going asking about!' said Harold
impatiently. 'He must have his letters left here till he chooses to
come for them, if he doesn't know where he lives.'

'No, no, Harold, that won't do,' said Mrs. King. 'You must take the
gentleman his letters, and they'll be sure to know at the Park, or at
the Rectory, or at the Tankard, where he lodges. Well, it will be a