"What a ripping idea!" said Jack. "Of course the curate would be much
easier. We'll ask where he lives."

They did so at a small tobacconist's that was open, and found that the
curate had rooms at Myrtle Villa, quite close by.

They therefore marched towards Myrtle Villa, but first arranged to draw
lots to see who should ring the bell and make the inquiry. They tore up
paper of different sizes, and it was agreed that the holders of the
longest and the shortest pieces should go--the longest to put the
question, the shortest to ring and lend support. The result was that
Mary drew the longest and Gregory the smallest.

Gregory was furious. "I don't even know what it's all about," he
complained.

They told him.

"How rotten!" he said. "What's it matter?"

Mary, however, led him off to the house, and he rang the bell with
vigour.

A smiling girl opened the door and asked what they wanted.

"Is the curate at home?" Mary asked.

The girl said that he was.

"Will you ask him if he will speak to us for a moment?" said Mary.

"What about?" asked the girl. "He has a friend with him."

"I don't think you'd understand if we told you," said Mary.

"I must know what it's about," said the girl. "He doesn't like to be
disturbed on Sunday afternoons."

"Has he got a lot of books--poetry books?" Gregory asked.

"Yes," said the girl, "heaps."

"Then it's about Milton," said Mary.

"Milton the baker!" exclaimed the girl. "He's not dead, is he?"

"Milton the poet," said Mary.

"I'm all in a maze," said the girl. "I don't know what you're talking
about. But I suppose I'd better tell him."

The girl left them on the mat and knocked at a door just inside.

"Come in," said a man's voice.

"Please, sir," said the girl, "there are two children asking about
someone named Milton."

The owner of the voice laughed. "Are they?" he said. "Well, they've
come to the right shop." And then the door opened wider and a tall and
handsome young man came out, dressed in a cricket blazer over a
clergyman's waistcoat and collar, and smoking a large pipe.

"What's all this about Milton?" he said cheerily. "What Milton? Not the
poet?"

"Yes," said Mary.

"Oh, I say, this is too good," said the young clergyman. "Vernon," he
called out, "come here and see a deputation from Milton."

Another young man joined him, equally pleasant looking, and they all
shook hands.

"Come inside," said the young clergyman.

"There are four others w