come to her!'"

The Rector shivered at the implication.

"Then I says, says I: 'Like as not the Rector won't thank you for
interferin'. Least said soonest mended,' says I."

"I'm very much obliged to you," said the Rector difficultly, and his
hand shook on Ambrosius's yellow page.

"You see, Sir," the man's tone held all that deferent apology that
truth telling demands, "gells is gells, be they never so up in the
world, all the world over, bless their hearts; and young men is young
men, d--n them, asking your pardon, Sir, I'm sure, but the word
slipped out. And I shouldn't ha' been easy if anything had have gone
wrong with Miss, God bless her, all along of the want of a word in
season. Asking your pardon, Sir, but even young ladies is flesh and
blood, when it comes to the point. Ain't they now?" he ended
appealingly.

The Rector spoke with an obvious effort, got his hand off the page and
closed the folio.

"You've done quite right, George," he said, "and I'm greatly obliged
to you. Only I do ask you to keep this to yourself. You wouldn't have
liked it if people had heard a thing like that about your Ruby
before--I mean when she was at home."

He replaced the two folios on the shelf.