the birds, and rest his eyes upon
meadows, flowers and trees. He felt at home, and the spirit of
childhood days possessed him. He longed to wade in every brook he saw,
and roll in the grass by the side of the road.

He had walked about five miles and was somewhat tired, as he was
carrying a large bag over his shoulder, and his precious violin case
under his arm. He was no longer dressed in his clerical garb, but was
plain John Handyman in rough work-a-day clothes. He enquired the way
from several people he met, and these had looked with curiosity upon
the bag and box he was carrying.

"Huntin' for work, eh?" the last man he had accosted asked. "Well,
Jake Jukes wants a man in the worst way. Heard him say so last night.
He lives about half a mile further on. Ye can't mistake the place, for
it's just across the road from the rectory."

"How will I know the rectory when I come to it?" Douglas enquired.

"Oh, ye can't mistake it very well. It is a big house with shutters on
the windows, and tall grass all around. It's been closed up for about
a year now."

This was just the information Douglas needed, and thanking the man, he
moved on his way. Presently, the road dipped into a wooded valley, and
part way down the hill, Douglas espied a large barrel overflowing with
clear, sparkling water. Stopping, he opened his bag and drew forth a
small tin cup. This he filled with water, and then withdrew a short
distance among the trees and sat down upon the mossy ground. Mrs.
Garton had thoughtfully provided him with a generous lunch, and this he
now opened and spread out before him. He was hungry, so the sandwiches
and cold meat seemed the best he had ever tasted. There was a piece of
pie, as well as cake, for dessert, and what more could a king desire?
he asked himself. How delightful it was to lie there and rest in such
a quiet place. He was free to come and go as he wished, and not
shackled by any rules of conventional life. The whole country was his
to wander at will. Why should he not do it? He had only himself to
care for, and his strong arms could provide the simple necessities of
daily life. Why spend his time in the service of others, when his
efforts were either misunderstood or not appreciated? He was tired of
being dictated to, and told what to do. He was just as able to look
after his own affairs as the Bishop and Dr. Rannage. They did not care
a snap for him, neither did the Church, for that