esides the increase of numbers there had been considerable additions
made to the fabric of the Abbey, if such a word as fabric may be applied
to matchboard, felt, and corrugated iron. Mention has already been made
of the new Guest-house, which accommodated not only soldiers invited to
spend their furloughs at the Abbey, but also tramps who sought a night's
lodging. Mark, as Porter, found his time considerably taken up with
these casuals, because as soon as the news spread of a comfortable
lodging they came begging for shelter in greater numbers than had been
anticipated. A rule was made that they should pay for their
entertainment by doing a day's work, and it was one of Mark's duties to
report on the qualifications of these casuals to Brother George, whose
whole life was occupied with the farm that he was creating out of those
derelict fields.

"There's a black man just arrived, Reverend Brother. He says he lost his
ship at Southampton through a boiler explosion, and is tramping to
Cardiff," Mark would report.

"Can he plough a straight furrow?" the Prior would demand.

"I doubt it," Mark would answer with a smile. "He can't walk straight
across the dormitory."

"What's he been drinking?"

"Rum, I fancy."

"Why did you let him in?"

"It's such a stormy night."

"Well, send him along to me to-morrow after Lauds, and I'll put him to
cleaning out the pigsties."

Mark only had to deal with these casuals. Regular guests like the
soldiers, who were always welcome, and ecclesiastically minded inquirers
were looked after by Brother Nicholas. One of the things for which Mark
detested Brother Nicholas was the habit he had of showing off his poor
casuals to the paying guests. It took Mark a stern reading of St.
Benedict's Rule and the observations therein upon humility and obedience
not to be rude to Brother Nicholas sometimes.

"Brother," he asked one day. "Have you ever read what our Holy Father
says about gyrovagues and sarabaites?"

Brother Nicholas, who always thought that any long word with which he
was unfamiliar referred to sexual perversion, asked what such people
were.

"You evidently haven't," said Mark. "Our Holy Father disapproves of
them."

"Oh, so should I, Brother Mark," said Brother Nicholas quickly. "I hate
anything like that."

"It struck me," Mark went on, "that most of our paying guests are
gyrovagues and sarabaites."

"What an accusation to make," said Brother Nicholas, flushing with
ex