eople in London?" asked Dion.

"Oh, I don't know; they're more artificial. They think so much about
clothes, and hats, and the way their hair's done."

"The men!"

"I was talking of the women."

"But is Job Crickendon a woman?"

"Don't be absurd, Dion. You know what I mean. The country brings out the
best that is in people."

"That's a bad look out for me, who've lived nearly all my life in
London."

"You would be yourself anywhere. Now about Robin. I've got the gaiters.
They're not exactly riding gaiters--they don't make them for such little
boys--but they'll do beautifully. But I don't want to tell Robin
till Monday morning. You see he's got a very exciting day before him
to-morrow, and I think to know about Monday on top of it might be almost
too much for him."

"But what excitement is there to-morrow?"

She looked at him reproachfully.

"Mr. Thrush!"

"Oh, of course. And is Robin coming to the Cathedral?"

"Yes, for once. It's a terribly long service for a child, but Robin
would break his heart if he didn't see Mr. Thrush walk in the procession
for the first time."

"Then we won't tell him till Monday morning. I'll hire a dog-cart and we
can all drive out together."

Again she gave him the tender look, but she did not then explain what it
meant.

That evening they dined with Canon Wilton, who had a surprise in store
for them. Esme Darlington had come down to stay with him over Sunday,
and to have a glimpse of his dear young friends in Little Cloisters.

The dinner was a delightful one. Mr. Darlington was benignly talkative
and full of kindly gossip; Canon Wilton almost beamed upon his guests;
after dinner Rosamund sang song after song while the three men listened
and looked. She sang her very best for them, and when she was winding
a lace shawl about her hair preparatory to the little walk home, Canon
Wilton thanked her in a way that brought the blood to her cheeks.

"You've made me very happy to-night," he said finally. And his strong
bass voice was softer than usual.

"I'm glad."

"Not only by your singing," he added.

She looked at him inquiringly. His eyes had gone to Dion.

"Not only by that."

And then he spoke almost in a murmur to her.

"He's come back worth it," he said. "Good night. God bless you both."

The following day was made memorable by the "installation" of Mr. Thrush
as a verger of Welsley Cathedral.

The Cathedral was not specially crowded for the occasion, but t