e shrubs, amid which they heard the thrill of
her fresh young voice singing to herself.

"That child has a heart of gold," said Mr. Emlyn, as the two men walked
on. "I did not exaggerate when I said she was the best doctor in the
place. I believe the poor really do believe that she is a fairy. Of
course we send from the vicarage to our ailing parishioners who require
it, food and wine; but it never seems to do them the good that her
little dishes made by her own tiny hands do; and I don't know if you
noticed the basket that old woman took away,--Miss Lily taught Will
Somers to make the prettiest little baskets; and she puts her jellies or
other savouries into dainty porcelain gallipots nicely fitted into the
baskets, which she trims with ribbons. It is the look of the thing that
tempts the appetite of the invalids, and certainly the child may well be
called Fairy at present; but I wish Mrs. Cameron would attend a little
more strictly to her education. She can't be a fairy forever."

Kenelm sighed, but made no answer.

Mr. Emlyn then turned the conversation to erudite subjects, and so they
came in sight of the town, when the vicar stopped and pointed towards
the church, of which the spire rose a little to the left, with two aged
yew-trees half shadowing the burial-ground, and in the rear a glimpse of
the vicarage seen amid the shrubs of its garden ground.

"You will know your way now," said the vicar; "excuse me if I quit you:
I have a few visits to make; among others, to poor Haley, husband to the
old woman you saw. I read to him a chapter in the Bible every day; yet
still I fancy that he believes in fairy charms."

"Better believe too much, than too little," said Kenelm; and he turned
aside into the village and spent half-an-hour with Will, looking at the
pretty baskets Lily had taught Will to make. Then, as he went slowly
homeward, he turned aside into the churchyard.

The church, built in the thirteenth century, was not large, but it
probably sufficed for its congregation, since it betrayed no signs of
modern addition; restoration or repair it needed not. The centuries had
but mellowed the tints of its solid walls, as little injured by the huge
ivy stems that shot forth their aspiring leaves to the very summit of
the stately tower as by the slender roses which had been trained
to climb up a foot or so of the massive buttresses. The site of the
burial-ground was unusually picturesque: sheltered towards the north