ages
belonging to Miss Unity that it was quite difficult to stow them away,
and as fast as that was done Bridget brought out more. Not that there
was much luggage altogether, but it consisted in such a number of
oddly-shaped parcels and small boxes that it was both puzzling and
distracting to know where to put them. Mr Hawthorn was busy for a good
quarter of an hour disposing of Miss Unity's property; while David
looked on, keenly interested, and full of faith in his father's
capacity.

"That's all, I think," said Mr Hawthorn triumphantly at last, as he
emerged from the depths of the wagonette, and surveyed his labours;
"there's not much room left for us, certainly, but I daresay we shall
manage."

As he spoke Bridget came out of the house carrying a waterproof bundle,
bristling with umbrellas and parasols.

"Oh, dear me!" exclaimed the vicar in a discouraged voice, "is that to
go? Does your mistress want all those umbrellas?"

"She wouldn't like to go without 'em, sir," replied Bridget.

"Where _shall_ you put them, father?" asked David in quite an excited
manner.

That was indeed a question, but it was at length solved by Mr Hawthorn
deciding to walk, and the wagonette was ready to proceed, David sitting
in front as usual. After several efforts to make Andrew talk he fell
back for amusement on his own thoughts, and in recognising all the
well-known objects they passed on the road. Presently they came to a
certain little grey cottage, and then he knew they were halfway home.
It had honeysuckle growing over the porch, and a row of bee-hives in the
garden, which was generally bright and gay with flowers; just now,
however, it all looked withered and unattractive, except that on one
tree there still hung some very red apples, though it was the beginning
of November. That reminded David of Antony, who had a great weakness
for apples. He smiled to himself, and felt glad that he should see his
pet so soon.

After this cottage there was a long steep hill to go up, and here Ruby
the horse always waited for Andrew to get down and walk. David might
really drive now, and even flick at Ruby's fat sides with the whip,
which was pleasant, but did not make the least difference to his speed.

When they had reached the top of the hill, the little square tower of
Easney church could just be seen, and the chimneys of the vicarage, but
though they looked near, there were still nearly four miles to drive.
Now it was all