f the houses children
were playing, and in most of the courtyards a foal was running about,
with a bell tied round its neck. Otherwise the village seemed quite
deserted, for all who could work were out in the fields, and the women,
having cooked the dinner at home, had carried it out to their husbands.
Only on the grass-plot in front of the school-house was there life;
there the children were at play, and their greetings to those in the
carriage was in Hungarian.

Of the villagers only the "aristocratic" were at home. At the threshold
of a pretty little stone house stood Gongoly, much stouter than some
years before. In front of the smithy sat Klincsok, quietly smoking,
while the smith mended a wheel.

"Hallo!" he called out. "So you've come back! Why, we were thinking of
looking out for another priest!" Which showed that Father Janos' absence
had been noticed.

How Glogova had changed in the last few years! There was a tower to the
church, the like of which was not to be seen except in Losoncz; only
that on the tower of Losoncz there was a weathercock. In the middle of
the village was a hotel, "The Miraculous Umbrella," with Virginian
creeper climbing all over it, and near it a pretty little white house,
looking as though it were made of sugar; behind it a garden with a lot
of young trees in it.

"Whose house is that?" asked Gyuri, turning round.

"The owner is on the box-seat beside you."

"Really? Is it yours, Veronica?"

She nodded her head.

"There is a small farm belonging to it," said Father Janos modestly.

"Well, we won't take it with us, but leave it here for your brother,
shall we, Veronica?"

Then he turned to the priest again, saying:

"Veronica has a fortune worthy of a countess, but neither you nor she
knows of it."

Both the priest and Veronica were so surprised at this announcement,
that they did not notice they were in front of the Presbytery, and Gyuri
would have driven on if Vistula, the old watch-dog, had not rushed out
barking with joy; and old Widow Adamecz called out, with the tears
rolling down her face:

"Holy Mary! you have heard the prayers of your servant!"

"Stop! here we are. Open the gate, Mrs. Adamecz."

The widow wiped away her tears, dropped her book, and got up to open the
gate.

"Is dinner ready?" asked Father Janos.

"Dinner? Of course not. Whom was I to cook for? We all thought your
reverence was lost. I have not even lighted the fire, for my tears would
only