Elfride, you will like to go ?' Elfride assented; and the little breakfast-party separated.

Stephen rose to go and take a few final measurements at the church, the vicar following him to the door with a mysterious expression of inquiry on his face.
'You'll put up with our not having family prayer this morning, I hope ?' he whispered.
'Yes; quite so,' said Stephen.
'To tell you the truth,' he continued in the same undertone, 'we don't make a regular thing of it; but when we have strangers visiting us, I am strongly of opinion that it is the proper thing to do, and I always do it.

I am very strict on that point.

But you, Smith, there is something in your face which makes me feel quite at home; no nonsense about you, in short.

Ah, it reminds me of a splendid story I used to hear when I was a helter-skelter young fellow--such a story! But'-- here the vicar shook his head self-forbiddingly, and grimly laughed.
'Was it a good story ?' said young Smith, smiling too.
'Oh yes; but 'tis too bad--too bad! Couldn't tell it to you for the world!' Stephen went across the lawn, hearing the vicar chuckling privately at the recollection as he withdrew.
They started at three o'clock.