to go up and compete for a minor scholarship; Angleside was to
wait until he heard whether he had passed, and was then going abroad to
meet his father and to rest from the extreme exertion of mastering the
"Apology" and the first books of the "Memorabilia." John drove over to
meet the Honourable Cornelius, who was in a terrible state of anxiety and
left him no peace on the way asking him again and again to repeat the
answers to the questions which had been proposed, reckoning up the ones
he had answered wrong and the ones he thought he might have answered
right, and coming each time to a different conclusion, finally lighting a
huge brierwood pipe and swearing "that it was a beastly shame to subject
human beings to such awful torture." John calmed him by saying he fancied
Cornelius had "got through"; for John's words were a species of gospel to
Cornelius. By the time they reached the vicarage Angleside felt sanguine
of his success.

The vicar was not visible. It was a strange and unheard of thing--there
were visitors in the drawing-room. This doubtless accounted for the fact
that the fly from the Duke's Head was standing on the opposite side of
the road. The two young men went into their study, which was on the
ground floor and opened upon the passage which led to the drawing-room
from the little hall. Angleside remarked that by leaving the door open
they would catch a glimpse of the visitor when he went out. But the
visitor stayed long. The curiosity of the two was wrought up to a high
pitch; it was many months since there had been a real visitor at the
vicarage. Angleside suggested going out and finding old Reynolds--he
always knew everything that was going on.

"If we only wait long enough," said Short philosophically, "they are sure
to come out."

"Perhaps," returned Cornelius rather doubtfully.

"They" did come out. The drawing-room door opened and there was a sound
of voices. It was a woman's voice, and a particularly sweet voice, too.
Still no one came down the passage. The lady seemed to be lingering in
taking her leave. Then there was a sound of small feet and suddenly a
little girl stood before the open door of the study, looking wonderingly
at the two young men. Short thought he had never seen such a beautiful
child. She could not have been more than seven or eight years old, and
was not tall for her age; a delicate little figure, all in black, with
long brown curls upon her shoulders, flowing abundantly