ent, as he
requested Emily and her father to seat themselves in a large homely room
which looked out upon the garden. The woman who had carried the child
reappeared and poured out cups of tea. When she had left the room--

'I must ask you to excuse the roughness of my establishment, Miss Hood,'
he said. 'I have to make shift for the resent with Mrs. Jenkins. She
isn't as refined as she might e, but she's been with us here for more
than twelve years, and I should be sorry to replace her with any other
servant.'

Pieces of bread and butter of somewhat undue solidity were offered.
Emily 'declined anything but the cup of tea. She was very ill at ease,
though she succeeded in suppressing any manifestation of it; Dagworthy
kept his gaze on her constantly.

'Now I know you didn't care very much about the dogs,' he said to her
presently. 'I think I've got something here that will be rather more in
your line.'

He brought from a corner of the room a large portfolio, set it upon a
chair in front of Emily, and exposed its contents. These were a number
of fine photographs of continental cathedrals and churches.

'I bought these when I took my run through France and Germany last
year,' he explained. 'I've something of a turn for architecture, I
believe; at all events, I know I like a fine building, and I like to
find out all I can about it.'

He went through the collection, with remarks which proved that he had
certainly attained a rudimentary knowledge of the subject, and that his
appreciation was often keen when his technical understanding might be at
fault.

'The worst of it is,' he said, at one point, with a modesty which was a
new feature in his conversation, 'I can't pronounce the names properly.
Now, how do you read that, Miss Hood? To be sure; I know it when I hear
it. Have you ever been in France?'

The negative reply came.

'You'd like to see the old-fashioned streets in which some of these
churches stand.'

As soon as it was possible to do so, Emily looked meaningly at her
father, and he, just as anxious to be on his way homeward, rose for
leave-taking. Dagworthy offered no opposition; he went with them to the
gates, and shook hands with both, then stood gazing after them as they
walked across the common.

'Well, I never knew young Dagworthy anything like that before,' said Mr.
Hood, when they were at some distance from the gate. 'I couldn't believe
it when he asked us to go into the house.'

'I'm afraid