enose and across the High. On the farther pavement
he halted, round-eyed, held at gaze by the beauty of the Virgin's
porch, with the creeper drooping like a veil over its twisted
pillars.

High up, white pigeons wheeled round the spire or fluttered from
niche to niche, and a queer fancy took him that they were the souls
of the carved saints up there, talking to one another above the
city's traffic. At length he withdrew his eyes, and reading the name
"Oriel Street" on an angle of the wall above him, passed down a
narrow by-lane in search of further wonders.

The clocks were striking three when, after regaining the High and
lunching at a pastrycook's, Taffy turned down into St. Aldates and
recognised Tom Tower ahead of him. The great gates were closed.
Through the open wicket he had a glimpse of green turf and an idle
fountain; and while he peered in, a jolly-looking porter stepped out
of the lodge for a breath of air and nodded in the friendliest
manner.

"You can walk through if you want to. Were you looking for anyone?"

"No," said Taffy, and explained proudly, "My father used to be at
Christ Church."

The porter seemed interested. "What name?" he asked.

"Raymond."

"That must have been before my time. I suppose you'll be wanting to
see the Cathedral. That's the door--right opposite."

Taffy thanked him and walked across the great empty quadrangle.
Within the Cathedral the organ was sounding and pausing, and from
time to time a boy's voice broke in upon the music like a flute, the
pure treble rising to the roof as though it were the very voice of
the building, and every pillar sustained its petition, "_Lord have
mercy upon us, and incline our hearts to keep this law!_"
Neither organist nor chorister was visible, and Taffy tiptoed along
the aisles in dread of disturbing them. For the moment this voice
adoring in the noble building expressed to him the completest, the
most perfect thing in life. All his own boyish handiwork, remember,
under his father's eye had been guided toward the worship of God.

". . . _And incline our hearts to keep this law_." The music
ceased. He heard the organist speaking, up in the loft; criticising,
no doubt: and it reminded him somehow of the small sounds of home and
his mother moving about her housework in the hush between breakfast
and noon.

He stepped out into the sunlight again, and wandering through archway
and cloister found himself at length beyond the coll