h thank our good friend, Sir John. I am happy
to tell you that he has consented to restore the chancel."

"Oh, Sir John, how can we ever thank you enough!" cried Marion, coming
forward breathlessly and pressing his hands in eager gratitude. Sir John
looked as if he didn't want to be thanked, but he glanced towards the
writing-table. Vera's back was turned; she made no sign of having heard.

"I am sure I had given up all hopes of it altogether," continued the
vicar. "You gave such an unqualified refusal when I spoke to you about
it before, I never dreamt that you would be induced to change your mind."

"Some one--I mean--I thought it over--and--and it was presented to my
notice--in another light," stammered Sir John, somewhat confusedly.

"And it is most kind, most generous of you to allow it to be done in my
own way, according to the plans I had wished to follow."

"Oh, I am quite sure you will understand it much better than I am likely
to do. Besides, I have no time to attend to it; it will suit me better to
leave it entirely in your hands."

"Would you not like to see the plans Mr. Woodley drew for us last year?"

"Not now, I think, thank you; I must be going; another time, Mr.
Daintree; I can't wait just now."

He was standing irresolute in the middle of the room. He looked again
wistfully at Vera's back. Was it possible that she was not going to give
him one word, one look, when surely she must know by whose influence he
had been induced to consent to rebuild the chancel!

Almost in despair he moved to the door, and just as he reached it, when
his hand was already on the handle, she looked up. Her eyes, all softened
with pleasure and gratitude, nay, almost with tenderness, met his. He
stopped suddenly short.

"Miss Nevill, might I ask you to walk with me as far as the clerk's
cottage? I--I forget which it is!"

It was the lamest and most blundering excuse. Any six-year-old child in
the village could have pointed out the cottage to him. Mrs. Daintree
looked up in astonishment. Vera blushed rosy red; Eustace, man-like, saw
nothing, and began eagerly,

"I am walking that way myself; we can go together----" Suddenly his coat
tails were violently pulled from behind. "Quite impossible, Eustace; I
want you at home for the next hour," says Marion, quietly standing by his
side, with a look of utter innocence upon her face. The vicar, almost
throttled by the violence of the assault upon his garments, perceived
th