ld he? She was too young to be taken seriously, and she was very
sweet. Philip himself, lover of another woman as he was, had more than
once been quite uncomfortably stirred by the near sweetness of
Jacqueline.... Neither as priest nor as man could he bring himself to
condemn a thing he so well understood. The sense of responsibility
deepened. What was he to do about it?

Percival Channing, on his part, always sensitive to environment, gave of
his very best to Philip, reason enough for liking whoever brought it
forth. But he had other reasons for liking the grave, simple, courteous
young countryman--a sincere respect for his courage in choosing to live
out his life in the very shadow of his father's disgrace, and also a
very sincere if pagan admiration for the other's physical prowess--the
admiration of the weakling for the man who is as nature meant men to be.

On the occasion of Philip's initial visit at Holiday Hill, Channing had
stood on the porch watching him ride away, his well-knit body moving in
the perfect accord with his horse that means natural horsemanship,
taking a gate at the foot of the road without troubling to open it, in
one long, clean leap that brought an envious sigh from the watcher.

"What a man!" thought Channing. "I'll bet he doesn't know what a
headache is, nor a furry tongue, nor a case of morning blues.--Heigho
for the simple life!"

It was not Philip's last visit to Holiday Hill; and more than once on
returning from his pastoral rounds, he found Channing in possession of
the rectory, deep in one of his father's French books, practising rather
futilely with the punching bag that decorated one corner of the
living-room, or prowling about with an appreciative eye for old bindings
and portraits, and what egg-shell china was left to remind Philip
vaguely of the vague, fragile lady who had been his mother.

Farwell, too, came to the rectory; an adaptable, friendly soul,
accustomed to fit himself comfortably into whatever surroundings offered
themselves, but underneath his casual exterior extremely observant and
critical of such things as seemed to him important. Philip, having dined
in some elegance at Holiday Hill, had the courage to invite the two to
one of his own simple suppers. And as his ancient negress selected that
occasion, out of sheer excitement, to revert to her unfortunate habits,
Philip himself cooked the meal, serving it without apology or
explanation upon a cloth of fine yellow