s occasion I do not feel inclined to give you one. That man was
perfectly horrible, and deserved everything he got. I only hope it may
have done him good. I couldn't have believed such people existed at
the present day. The most charitable view to take of him is that he
can scarcely be in his right mind."

"What, because he wanted to burn somebody alive?" said Austin. "Oh,
that was natural enough. I thought it rather an amusing idea, to tell
the truth. The reason I went for him was that I caught him making
faces at me when he thought I wasn't looking. I saw at once that he
was a beast, so the instant he gave me an opportunity of settling
accounts with him I took it. Oh, what a blessing it is to be at home
again! Dear auntie, let's make a virtuous resolution. We'll neither of
us go to the vicarage again as long as we both shall live."

He strolled into the garden--the good garden, with straight walks, and
clipped hedges, and fair formal shape--and threw himself down upon a
long chair. He had already begun to forget the incidents of the
afternoon. Here was rest, and peace, and beauty. How tired he was! Why
did he feel so tired? He could not tell. A deep sense of satisfaction
and repose stole over him. Lubin was there, tidying up, but he did not
feel any inclination to talk to Lubin or anybody else. He liked
watching Lubin, however, for Lubin was part of the garden, and all his
associations with him were pleasant. The scent of the flowers and the
grass possessed him. The sun was far from setting, and a young
crescent moon was hovering high in the heavens, looking like a silver
sickle against the blue. From the distant church came the sound of
bells ringing for even-song, faint as horns of elf-land, through the
still air. He felt that he would like to lie there always--just
resting, and drinking in the beauty of the world.

Suddenly he half-rose. "Lubin!" he called out quickly, in an
undertone.

"Sir," responded Lubin, turning round.

"Who was that lady looking over the garden-gate just now?"

"Lady?" repeated Lubin. "I never saw no lady. Whereabouts was she?"

"On the path of course, outside. A second ago. She stood looking at me
over the gate, and then went on. Run to the gate and see how far she's
got--quick!"

Lubin did as he was bidden without delay, looking up and down the
road. Then he returned, and soberly picked up his broom.

"There ain't no lady there," he said. "No one in sight either way.
Must 'a bee