e to come, I won't," he said rather
bluntly, and next second felt that he had made a mistake.

"I!" Beatrice answered, opening her eyes. "I have no wishes in the
matter. The fact is that we are poor, and let lodgings--that is what it
comes to. If you think they will suit you, you are quite right to take
them."

Geoffrey coloured. He was a man who could not bear to lay himself open
to the smallest rebuff from a woman, and he had brought this on himself.
Beatrice saw it and relented.

"Of course, Mr. Bingham, so far as I am concerned, I shall be the
gainer if you do come. I do not meet so many people with whom I care
to associate, and from whom I can learn, that I wish to throw a chance
away."

"I think you misunderstand me a little," he said; "I only meant that
perhaps you would not wish to be bothered with Effie, Miss Granger."

She laughed. "Why, I love children. It will be a great pleasure to me to
look after her so far as I have time."

Just then the others returned, and their conversation came to an end.

"It's quite delightful, Geoffrey--such funny old-fashioned rooms. I
really envy you." (If there was one thing in the world that Lady Honoria
hated, it was an old-fashioned room.) "Well, and now we must be going.
Oh! you poor creature, I forgot that you were so knocked about. I am
sure Mr. Granger will give you his arm."

Mr. Granger ambled forward, and Geoffrey having made his adieus, and
borrowed a clerical hat (Mr. Granger's concession to custom, for in most
other respects he dressed like an ordinary farmer), was safely conveyed
to the fly.

And so ended Geoffrey's first day at Bryngelly Vicarage.

CHAPTER XI

BEATRICE MAKES AN APPOINTMENT

Lady Honoria leaned back in the cab, and sighed a sigh of satisfaction.

"That is a capital idea," she said. "I was wondering what arrangements
you could make for the next three weeks. It is ridiculous to pay three
guineas a week for rooms just for you and Effie. The old gentleman only
wants that for board and lodging together, for I asked him."

"I daresay it will do," said Geoffrey. "When are we to shift?"

"To-morrow, in time for dinner, or rather supper: these barbarians eat
supper, you know. I go by the morning train, you see, so as to reach
Garsington by tea-time. I daresay you will find it rather dull, but you
like being dull. The old clergyman is a low stamp of man, and a bore,
and as for the eldest daughter, Elizabeth, she's too awful--she remind