“No?  You should have informed me of the town’s eccentricities.  As it is, if my presence imperils your social standing you can seclude me until the next train.”

“Better than that,” cheerfully, “I can take you to church.”

The alarmed look upon the professor’s face was so enticing that Callandar continued with glee: 

“Why not?  I have always thought your objection to church-going a blot upon an otherwise estimable character.  Hitherto I have been too busy to attend to it, but now—­”

“Quit chaffing, Harry!  I came up because I had to see you.  You pay no attention to my letters.  I never dreamed that you would stay a month in this backwater.  What is wrong?  What is the matter with you?”

“Look at me—­and ask those questions again.”

The keen eyes of the Button-Moulder looked deep into the doctor’s steady ones.  There was a slight pause.  Then—­

“Yes, I see what you mean.  I saw it as you came across the orchard.”  The sharp voice softened.  “My anxiety for your health could hardly survive the way in which you leaped that fence!  But all this makes it only the more mysterious.  Have you found the fountain of youth or—­or what?”

Callandar threw an affectionate arm over the other man’s shoulders.

“I am young, amn’t I!  Trouble is, I didn’t know it.”  He ruffled his hair at the side so that the grey showed plainly.  “Terrible thing when one loses the realisation of youth!  But I’ve had my lesson.  I’ll never be old again, never!”

In spite of himself the professor’s straight mouth curved a little.  A spark of pride glowed in his cool eyes as he bent them upon the smiling face of his friend.  Yet his tone was mocking as he said, “Then it is the fountain of youth?  One is never too old to find that chimera.”

“It’s not something that I’ve found, old cynic.  It’s something that I’ve lost.  Look at me hard!  Don’t you notice something missing?  Did you ever read the ’Pilgrim’s Progress’?”

“The Pilgrim’s—­”

“Breakfast is ready!” called Ann, teetering on her toes in the doorway.

“The Pil—­”

“And Aunt—­says—­will—­you—­please—­come—­at—­once—­so’s—­the coff—­ee—­won’t—­be—­cold!” chanted Ann.

“Yes, Ann.  We’re coming.”

“But I want to know—­”

“Old man, I’ll tell you after breakfast.  I want you to see me eat.  I wish to demonstrate that there is no deception.  A miracle has really happened.  No one could observe me breakfasting and doubt it!”

When they were seated he looked guilelessly into the still disapproving face of Mrs. Sykes.  “Perhaps you are wondering, as I did, what has brought Professor Willits back to Coombe,” he said, “but time and space mean little to professors, and the fact is that Willits has long wished to hear a sermon by the Reverend Mr. Macnair.  He is coming with me this morning.  Perhaps you hadn’t better mention it, though.  It might disturb Mr. Macnair to know that so eminent a critic was listening to him.”