eatly. One found ignorance, and
vice, and discomfort among the lower classes always; there was the same
thing to contend against in the agricultural as in the mining districts.
And the Rectory was substantial and comfortable, even picturesque. The
house was roomy, the garden large and capable of improvement; there
were trees in abundance, ivy on the walls, and Anice would do the rest.
The break-fast-room looked specially encouraging this morning. Anice, in
a pretty pale blue gown, and with a few crocuses at her throat, awaited
his coming behind the handsomest of silver and porcelain, reading his
favorite newspaper the while. Her little pot of emigrant violets exhaled
a faint, spring-like odor from their sunny place at the window; there
was a vase of crocuses, snow-drops and ivy leaves in the centre of the
table; there was sunshine outside and comfort in. The Rector had a good
appetite and an unimpaired digestion. Anice rose when he entered, and
touched the bell.

"Mamma's headache will keep her upstairs for a while," she said. "She
told me we were not to wait for her." And then she brought him his
newspaper and kissed him dutifully.

"Very glad to see you home again, I am sure, my dear," remarked the
Rector. "I have really missed you very much. What excellent coffee this
is!--another cup, if you please." And, after a pause,

"I think really, you know," he proceeded, "that you will not find the
place unpleasant, after all. For my part, I think it is well enough--for
such a place; one cannot expect Belgravian polish in Lancashire miners,
and certainly one does not meet with it; but it is well to make the best
of things. I get along myself reasonably well with the people. I do not
encounter the difficulties Grace complains of."

"Does he complain?" asked Anice; "I did not think he exactly
complained."

"Grace is too easily discouraged," answered the Rector in off-handed
explanation. "And he is apt to make blunders. He speaks of, and to,
these people as if they were of the same fibre as himself. He does not
take hold of things. He is deficient in courage. He means well, but he
is not good at reading character. That other young fellow now--Derrick,
the engineer--would do twice as well in his place. What do you think of
that young fellow, by the way, my dear?"

"I like him," said Anice. "He will help Mr. Grace often."

"Grace needs a support of some kind," returned Mr. Barholm, frowning
slightly, "and he does not seem