l up to much exercise," Miles went on, trying to look
exhausted and failing egregiously. "I've had rather a hard week in town.
I'll give the vicar a turn in the evening, I will truly."

Lady Mary smiled indulgently on this large young man, who certainly
looked far from delicate. But only a hard-hearted woman could have
pointed this out at such a moment, and where her nephew was concerned
Lady Mary's heart was all kindly affection. So she let him off church.

Miles carried out a pile of books to a seat in the garden and appeared
to be settled down to a studious morning. He waved a languid hand to his
aunt and uncle as they started for church, and the moment they were out
of sight laid down his book and clasped his hands behind his head.

The vicar of Amber Guiting was a family man and merciful. The school
children all creaked and pattered out of church after morning prayer,
and any other small people in the congregation were encouraged to do
likewise, the well-filled vicarage pew setting the example. Therefore,
Miles reckoned, that even supposing Miss Morton took the little boy to
church (he couldn't conceive of anyone having the temerity to escort
little Fay thither), they would come out in about three-quarters of an
hour after the bell stopped. But he had no intention of waiting for
that. The moment the bell ceased he--unaccompanied by any of the dogs
grouped about him at that moment--was going to investigate the Wren's
End garden. He knew every corner of it, and he intended to unearth Meg
and the children if they were to be found.

Besides, he ardently desired to see William.

William was a lawful pretext. No one could see anything odd in his
calling at Wren's End to see William. It was a perfectly natural thing
to do.

Confound Mrs. Trent.

Confound Pen, what did she want to interfere for?

Confound that bell. Would it never stop?

Yes it had. No it hadn't. Yes ... it had.

Give a few more minutes for laggards, and then----

Three melancholy and disappointed dogs were left in the Manor Garden,
while Miles swung down the drive, past the church, and into the road
that led to Wren's End.

What a morning it was!

The whole world seemed to have put on its Sunday frock. There had been
rain in the night, and the air was full of the delicious fresh-washed
smell of spring herbage. Wren's End seemed wonderfully quiet and
deserted as Miles turned into the drive. As he neared the house he
paused and listened, but