Father Stafford | Page 3

was a remarkable thing that all the ladies looked up quickly and
re-echoed the name of the last guest in accents of awe, whereas the men
seemed unaffected.
"Why, where did you pick him up?" asked Lady Claudia.
"Pick him up! I've known Charley Stafford since we were both that
high. We were at Harrow and at Oxford together. Rickmansworth
knows him, Bob. You didn't come till he'd left."
"Why is the gentleman called 'Father'?" said Bob.
"Because he is a priest," Miss Chambers answered. "And really, Mr.
Territon, you're very ignorant. Everybody knows Father Stafford. You
do, Mr. Haddington?"
"Yes," said Haddington, "I've heard of him. He's an Anglican Father,
isn't he? Had a big parish somewhere down the Mile End Road?"
"Yes," said Eugene. "He's an old and a great friend of mine. He's quite
knocked up, poor old chap, and had to get leave of absence; and I've
made him promise to come and stay here for a good part of the time, to
rest."
"Then he's not going off again on Monday?" asked Mrs. Lane.
"Oh, I hope not. He's writing a book or something, that will keep him
from being restless."
"How charming!" said Lady Claudia. "Don't you dote on him, Kate?
Please, Mr. Lane, may I stay too?"
"By the way," said Eugene, "Stafford has taken a vow of celibacy."
"I knew that," said Lady Claudia imperturbably.

Eugene looked mournful; Bob Territon groaned tragically; but Lady
Claudia was quite unmoved, and, turning to the Rector, who sat smiling
benevolently on the young people, asked:
"Do you know Father Stafford, Dr. Dennis?"
"No. I should be much interested in meeting him. I've heard so much of
his work and his preaching."
"Yes," said Lady Claudia, "and his penances and fasting, and so on."
"Poor old Stafford!" said Eugene. "It's quite enough for him that a
thing's pleasant to make it wrong."
"Not your philosophy, Master Eugene!" said the Rector.
"No, Doctor."
"But what's this vow?" asked Kate.
"There's no such thing as a binding vow of celibacy in the Anglican
Church," announced Miss Chambers.
"Is that right, Doctor?" said Lady Claudia.
"God bless me, my dear," said the Rector, "I don't know. There wasn't
in my time."
"But, Eugene, surely I'm right," persisted Aunt Jane. "His Bishop can
dispense him from it, can't he?"
"Don't know," answered Eugene. "He says he can."
"Who says he can?"
"Why, the Bishop!"
"Well, then, of course he can."

"All right," said Eugene; "only Stafford doesn't think so. Not that he
wants to be released. He doesn't care a bit about women--very
ungrateful, as they're all mad about him."
"That's very rude, Eugene," said Kate, in reproving tones. "Admiration
for a saint is not madness. Shall we go in, Claudia, and leave these men
to pipes and beer?"
"One for you, Rector!" chuckled Bob Territon, who knew no reverence.
The two girls departed somewhat scornfully, arm in arm, and the
Rector too rose with a sigh, and accompanied the elder ladies to the
house, whither they were going to meet the pony carriage that stood at
the hall door. A daily drive was part of Mrs. Lane's ritual.
"By the way, you fellows," Eugene resumed, throwing himself on the
grass, "I may as well mention that Stafford doesn't drink, or eat meat,
or smoke, or play cards, or anything else."
"What a peculiar beggar!" said Bob.
"Yes, and he's peculiar in another way," said Eugene, a little dryly; "he
particularly objects to any remark being made on his habits--I mean on
what he eats and drinks and so on."
"There I agree," said Bob; "I object to any remarks on what I eat and
drink"; and he look a long pull at the beer.
"You must treat him with respect, young man. Haddington, I know,
will study him as a phenomenon. I can't protect him against that."
Mr. Haddington smiled and remarked that such revivals of
mediævalism were interesting, if morbid; and having so delivered
himself, he too went his way.
"That chap's considered very clever, isn't he?" asked Bob of his host,
indicating Haddington's retreating figure.
"Very, I believe," said Eugene. "He's a cuckoo, you see."

"Dashed if I do," said Bob.
"He steals other birds' nests--eggs and all."
"Your natural history is a trifle mixed, old fellow; kindly explain."
"Well, he's a thief of ideas. Never was the father of one himself, and
gets his living by kidnapping."
"I never knew such a chap!" ejaculated Bob helplessly. "Why can't you
say plainly that you think he's an ass?"
"I don't," said Eugene. "He's by no means an ass. He's a very clever
fellow. But he lives on other men's ideas!"
"Oh! come and play billiards."
"I can't," said Eugene gravely. "I'm going to read poetry to Kate."
"By Jove, does