In the mind of the Rev.Samuel, Mr.Windle was that other communicant.
"What shall I do ?" he began, directly the devout warden entered.
Mr.Windle was beaming with good nature.

He had just been talking to a lady--the last to leave the church--who had told him that he had read the lessons with great feeling; and, while he despised all emotion as sacrilegious in the precincts of God's house of worship, he liked to be thought capable of it.
Seeing the cup in Mr.Bishop's hand and the dismayed expression on that gentleman's countenance, he smiled.
"This has to be--be finished," said the distraught clergyman.
"Ah, I'm sorry about that," replied Mr.Windle, easily.

"Under ordinary circumstances, there would have been as many as I said; but I understand that a lot of people attended early Communion at the bishop's service in Maidstone.

You see, it is not often that he comes, and they like to have his lordship." "But this is consecrated wine." "Ah--well--there's not much, I suppose.

Is there ?" Mr.Windle looked casually into the chalice.