Even the fact that the Reverend Mr.Arbroath was summarily deprived of his living and informed by the Bishop in the usual way, that his services would no longer be required, created very little interest.

Some months later a small journalistic flourish was heard on behalf of the discarded gentleman, upon the occasion of his being "received" into the Church of Rome, with all his sins forgiven,--but so far as Weircombe was concerned, the story of himself and his "fav'rite" was soon forgotten, and his very name ceased to be uttered.

The little community resumed its normal habit of cheerful attendance at Church every Sunday, satisfied to have shown to the ecclesiastical powers that be, the fact that "'Igh Jinks" in religion would never be tolerated amongst them; and the life of Weircombe went on in the usual placid way, divided between work and prayer, and governed by the twin forces of peace and contentment.
Meantime, the secret spells of Mother Nature were silently at work in the development and manifestation of the Spring.

The advent of April came like a revelation of divine beauty to the little village nestled in the "coombe," and garlanded it from summit to base with tangles of festal flowers.

The little cottage gardens and higher orchards were smothered in the snow of plum and cherry-blossom,--primroses carpeted the woods which crowned the heights of the hills, and the long dark spikes of bluebells, ready to bud and blossom, thrust themselves through the masses of last year's dead leaves, side by side with the uncurling fronds of the bracken and fern.