Mrs. Johnson, however, fired
a parting shot as she rose to go.
"You were not in the same regiment as Major Felstead, were you, Mr.
Lessingham?" she asked. "No," he answered calmly.
Philippa was busy with her adieux. Mrs. Johnson remained indomitable.
"What was your regiment, Mr. Lessingham?" she persisted. "You must
forgive my seeming inquisitive, but I am so interested in military
affairs."
Lessingham bowed courteously.
"I do not remember alluding to my soldiering at all," he said coolly,
"but as a matter of fact I am in the Guards."
Mrs. Johnson accepted Philippa's hand and the inevitable. Her
good-by to Lessingham was most affable. She walked up the road with
the vicar.
"I think, Vicar," she said severely, "that for a small place,
Dreymarsh is becoming one of the worst centres of gossip I ever knew.
Every one has been saying all sorts of unkind things about that
charming Mr. Lessingham, and there you are--Major Felstead's friend
and a Guardsman! Somehow or other, I felt that he belonged to one
of the crack regiments. I shall certainly ask him to dinner one
night next week."
The vicar nodded benignly. He had the utmost respect for Mrs.
Johnson's cook, and his own standard of social desirability, to
which the object of their discussion had attained.
"I should be happy to meet Mr.
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