and what he did, more watchful of him
with Robin, more anxious about his opinion on various matters.

For instance, there was the matter of Mr. Thrush.

Dion had not seen Mr. Thrush on the evening of his first day at Welsley.
He had been kept so busy by Rosamund, had done and seen so much, that
he had quite forgotten the ex-chemist. In the evening, however, before
dinner, he suddenly remembered him.

"What's become of Mr. Thrush?" he asked. "And, by the way, what is he
doing down here? You never told me, Rose, and even Robin's not said a
word."

"I asked him not to," said Rosamund, with her half-shrewd, half-soft
look. "The fact is----" She broke off, then continued, with her
confidential air, "Dion, when you see Mr. Thrush I want you to tell me
something truthfully. Will you?"

"I'll try to. What is it?"

"I want you to look at his nose--"

"Rosamund!"

"No, really," she pursued, with great earnestness. "And I want you to
tell me whether you think, honestly think, it--better."

"But why?"

"It's very important for Mr. Thrush that it should look better. He's
down here to be seen."

Her voice had become almost mysterious.

"To be seen? By whom? Is he on show in the town?"

"No--don't laugh. It's really important for his future. I must tell you
something. He's taken the modified pledge."

Her look said, "There! what d'you think of that?"

"Modified!" said Dion, rather doubtfully.

"Never between meals--never."

"At any rate that's a step in the right direction."

"Isn't it? I took it with him."

"The modified pledge?"

"Yes," she said, with great seriousness.

"But you never----! To help him, of course."

"Yes."

"And has it made a difference to the nose?"

"I think it's made a considerable difference. But I want your opinion."

"I'll give it you for what it's worth. But who's going to see Mr.
Thrush?"

"The Dean.

"The Dean! Why on earth?"

"Almost directly there's going to be a vacancy among the vergers, and
the Dean has promised me faithfully that if Mr. Thrush seems suitable he
shall have the post."

"Mr. Thrush a verger! Mr. Thrush carry a poker before a bishop!"

"Not a poker, only a white wand. I've been making him practise here in
the garden, and he does it quite admirably already."

She spoke now with almost defiant emphasis. Dion loved her for the
defiance and for its deliciously absurd reason.

"The Dean is away, but he's coming back to-morrow, so I begin to feel
rat