utely. Not at all Anglican. Perfectly correct. I'm glad. I'm really
very glad. I was a bit afraid at first it might be Anglican. But it's
not--oh, no, not at all."

In the guest-chamber they read the rules for guests, and discovered to
their mortification that they were not expected to be present at Matins
and Lauds.

"I was looking forward to getting up at two o'clock," said Michael.
"Perhaps Dom Cuthbert will let us sometimes. It's really much easier to
get up at two o'clock than five. Mass is at half-past five, and we must
go to that."

Dom Gilbert, the guest-brother, came in with plates of bread and cheese
while the boys were reading the rules, and they questioned him about
going to Matins. He laughed and said they would have as much church as
they wished without being quite such strict Benedictines as that.
Michael was not sure whether he liked Dom Gilbert--he was such a very
practical monk.

"If you go to Mass and Vespers and Compline every day," said Dom
Gilbert, "you'll do very well. And please be punctual for your meals."

Michael and Chator looked injured.

"Breakfast after Mass. Bread and cheese at twelve. Cup of tea at five,
if you're in. Supper at eight."

Dom Gilbert left them abruptly to eat their bread and cheese alone.

"He's rather a surly chap," grumbled Michael. "He doesn't seem to me the
right one to have chosen for guest-brother at all. I had a lot I wanted
to ask him. For one thing I don't know where the lav. is. I think he's a
rotten guest-brother."

The afternoon passed in a walk along the wide ridge of the downs through
the amber of this fine summer day. Several hares were seen and a
kestrel, while Chator disposed very volubly of the claims of several
Anglican clergymen to Catholicism. After tea in the hour of recreation
they met the other monks, Dom Gregory the organist, Brother George and
Brother William. It was not a very large monastery.

Chator found the Vespers somewhat trying to his curiosity, because owing
to the interposition of the curtain he was unable to criticize the
behaviour of the monks in quire. This made him very fidgety, and rather
destroyed Michael's sense of peace. However, Chator restrained his
ritualistic ardour very well at Compline, which in the dimness of the
starlit night was a magical experience, as one by one with raised cowls
the monks entered in black procession and silence absolute. Michael,
where he knelt in the ante-chapel, was profoundly moved by t