k of
nothing else. Mr. Thrush was to be installed on the following Sunday.

"Installed?" said Dion. "Is the Archbishop coming down to conduct the
ceremony?"

"No, no! What I mean is that Mr. Thrush will walk in the procession for
the first time. Oh, I shall be so nervous! If only he carries the wand
as I've taught him! I don't know what Mr. Thrush would do without me. He
seems to depend on me for everything now, poor old gentleman."

"I'm afraid he'll miss you dreadfully," said Dion.

"Miss me? When?"

Before he could answer she said quickly:

"Oh, by the way, Dion, while you've been away I've done something for
you."

"What is it, Rose?"

She was looking gaily mysterious, and almost cunning, but in a
delightful way.

"I don't want you to be bored during your holiday."

"Bored! Don't you realize that this is an earthly Paradise for me? You
and Robin and peace after South Africa."

She looked very shrewd.

"That's all very well, but a man, especially a soldier man, wants
sport."

She laid a strong and happy emphasis on the last word, and then she
disclosed the secret. A brother of "the cold douche," a gentleman farmer
who had land some four miles from Welsley, and who was "a great
friend" of Rosamund's--she had met him three times at the organist's
house--hearing of Dion's arrival, had written to say that he had some
partridges which needed "keeping down." He himself was "laid by" with a
bad leg, but he would be very glad if Mr. Leith would "take his chance
among the birds" any day, or days, he liked while at Welsley. The
gentleman farmer could not offer much, just the ground, most of it
stubble, and a decent lot of birds.

"Dear Mrs. Dickinson knew through me how fond of shooting you are. We
owe it all to her," said Rosamund, in conclusion. "I've written to thank
him, and to say how glad you'll be."

"But you must come too," he said. "You shot in Greece, you must shoot
again here."

"I don't think I will here," said Rosamund, confidentially and rather
mysteriously.

"Why not?"

"Well, I don't think the Dean would approve of it. And he's been so
bricky about Mr. Thrush that I shouldn't like to hurt him."

"I can't go alone. I shall take Robin then."

He spoke half-laughingly.

"Robin?"

"Yes, why not? I'm sure he'd love to go."

"Of course he would. But how could his little legs walk over stubble?
He's not four years old yet."

"Robin's got to be Doric. He can't begin too soon."

She