ontented with himself and all the world. And what a view lay
outstretched beneath and around--a fair, rolling champaign, green meadow
and darker wood--here and there the shining surface of a pond: farm
buildings too, picturesque with their red roofs and yellow corn-stacks,
nestling among hanging elms noisy with the cawing of restless rooks, and
the shrill whimsical chatter of jackdaws. The bark of a sheepdog, and
the glad melodious shout of the cuckoo here and there, were borne upward
on the still air--and far away over this beautiful landscape the brown
high-pitched roofs of Saint Kirwin's, conveying a sort of monastic
suggestion in its surroundings of field and wood.

Haviland had been making the most of his day--therefore this was his
fourth expedition, and it was now late afternoon. His watch marked ten
minutes past five, and chapel was at six. There was plenty of time, but
he thought he would take it easy going back. So, having allowed himself
another five minutes' rest, he took a final look around, and started to
come down.

He had nearly reached the bottom of the slope when he stopped short,
with an exclamation of unbounded amazement and unmistakable dismay. He
stood listening, motionless, intent. Only the sound of a bell, pealing
out with startling plainness through the sleepy afternoon air. Great
heavens! It was the chapel bell at Saint Kirwin's.

No. It couldn't be! Why, it wasn't nearly time. Chapel was at six--
not half-past five. Eagerly, almost convulsively, he jerked forth his
watch. Still the hands marked ten minutes past five.

He groaned aloud. The game was up. Not by any possibility could he now
be in time for chapel. The bell always rang for a quarter of an hour,
and he knew--none better--that exactly double that period of time was
required to cover the distance between where he stood and the school
gates, and that at a sharp run all the way. By a wellnigh superhuman
effort it might possibly be done in twenty-five minutes, but not one
second less, and here he was with something under a quarter of an hour
to do it in. He was in despair.

For being late for chapel was one of the most heinous offences he could
commit. The only chance for him was if for any reason the Doctor should
happen to be absent himself. In that event the best he could expect was
a stiff imposition from the master of the week. Should however the Head
be there, as was nearly always the case--why then it wou