Campbell," and felt
sure he was going to ask impossible questions about Prebendaries and
Rural Deans.

The rasping Belgian, on whom both the mother and daughter cast continual
anxious and admiring eyes, though he seemed thoroughly able to take care
of himself, said to Muir, who was taking him on--

"No, I do not spend my entire time over my invention. Mrs. Campbell is
so kind as to take me for drives in the environment, to give me a right
impression of the beauties of Hertfordshire. For relaxation I play the
piano."

"Ha! Musical, eh, Professor?" asked Muir shrewdly. "That's right; so am
I. I'm awfully keen on music." He spoke reassuringly.

Mr. Stoendyck looked at him through his glasses, and said without
interest--

"Indeed. I find Beethoven's Fifth Symphony, even on the piano,
extraordinarily satisfying and refreshing to the mind after the strain
of looking at English scenery." He drank a long draught of iced lager.

"Oh! Classical, eh? I'm not up to that. Queen's Hall, eh? That sort of
thing."

"I beg your pardon? Is there----Has the Queen a hall in this
neighbourhood?"

"How do you mean, Professor?"

"What do you say?"

"I beg your pardon?"

Mrs. Campbell, who managed to hear through her own conversation with Van
Buren, called out--

"E say e no understand," and nodded smilingly, seeming to think she had
helped matters considerably.

Miss Campbell talked of tennis, matins, hats and the opera to Daphne,
but appeared to be absent, and occasionally smiled at the foreigner, who
ignored her.

At last the Campbells and their Belgian withdrew, Mrs. Campbell saying
that the Prebendary wished them to go to Evensong. Their departure left,
as such visits do, a blank and a reaction. Our friends were silent for a
minute.

Then Vaughan said--

"I feel crushed, and a little flattened out, too."

"_I_ feel as if my brain were made of cotton wool," said Harry.

"Come and sing," suggested Daphne to Muir, and they went off to the
drawing-room, from which strains were soon heard about _It IS not
because_,--something or other.

In the middle of the song Daphne played a wrong note, stopped, and
said--

"Oh, I wish Cyril was here!"

"So do I. If he can accompany, I wish he was here."

"Oh, go on!"

"_It IS not because thy heart is mine_"....

* * * * *

The party in the garden listened with a worried expression.

"How about croquet?" suggested Val. "The tapping noise will take