hey attend church regularly. As you know,
we have not a public-house or a dissenting place of worship in the
village."

"The man must be a fool," she said deliberately. "You did not, of
course, give him permission to hold these services?"

"Certainly not," the agent answered. "I refused it absolutely."

The lady rose, and Mr. Hurd understood that he was dismissed.

"You will tell your son about Thursday?" she reminded him.

"I will deliver your message, madam," he answered.

She nodded her farewell as the footman opened the door.

"Everything seems to be most satisfactory, Mr. Hurd," she said. "I shall
probably be here for several weeks, so come up again if there is
anything you want me to sign."

"I am much obliged, madam," the agent answered.

He left the place by a side entrance, and rode slowly down the private
road, fringed by a magnificent row of elm trees, to the village. The
latch of the iron gate at the end of the avenue was stiff, and he failed
to open it with his hunting crop at the first attempt. Just as he was
preparing to try again, a tall, boyish-looking young man, dressed in
sombre black, came swiftly across the road and opened the gate. Mr. Hurd
thanked him curtly, and the young man raised his hat.

"You are Mr. Hurd, I believe?" he remarked. "I was going to call upon
you this afternoon."

The little man upon the pony frowned. He had no doubt as to his
questioner.

"My name is Hurd, sir," he answered stiffly. "What can I do for you?"

"You can let me have that barn for my services," the other answered
smiling. "I wrote you about it, you know. My name is Macheson."

Mr. Hurd's answer was briefly spoken, and did not invite argument.

"I have mentioned the matter to Miss Thorpe-Hatton, sir. She agrees with
me that your proposed ministrations are altogether unneeded in this
neighbourhood."

"You won't let me use the barn, then?" the young man remarked
pleasantly, but with some air of disappointment.

Mr. Hurd gathered up the reins in his hand.

"Certainly not, sir!"

He would have moved on, but his questioner stood in the way. Mr. Hurd
looked at him from underneath his shaggy eyebrows. The young man was
remarkably young. His smooth, beardless face was the face of a boy. Only
the eyes seemed somehow to speak of graver things. They were very bright
indeed, and they did not falter.

"Mr. Hurd," he begged, "do let me ask you one question! Why do you
refuse me? What harm can I possibly d