“I really don’t think you have reached that point, Mr. Ambrose,” remarked Mrs. Goddard.  She admired the vicar and liked his sermons.

“You are fortunately not in the position of my churchwardens,” answered Mr. Ambrose.  “You have not been listening to me for thirty years.”

“How long have you been my tenant, Mrs. Goddard?” asked the squire.

“Nearly two years,” she answered thoughtfully, and her sad eyes rested a moment upon Mr. Juxon’s face with an expression he remembered.  Indeed he looked at her very often and as he looked his admiration increased, so that when he rose to take his leave the predominant impression of the vicarage which remained in his mind was that of her face.  Something of the same fascination took hold of him which had seized upon John Short when he caught sight of Mrs. Goddard through the open door of the study, something of that unexpected interest which in Mrs. Ambrose had at first aroused a half suspicious dislike, now long forgotten.

Before the squire left he invited the whole party to come and dine with him at the Hall on the following Saturday.  He must have some kind of a house warming, he said, for he was altogether too lonely up there.  Mrs. Goddard would bring Eleanor, of course; they would dine early—­it would not be late for the little girl.  If they all liked they could call it tea instead of dinner.  Of course everything was topsy-turvy in the Hall, but they would excuse that.  He hoped to establish friendly relations with his vicar and with his tenant—­his fair tenant.  Might he call soon and see whether there was anything that could be done to improve the cottage?  Before the day when they were all coming to dine?  He would call to-morrow, then.  Anything that needed doing should be done, Mrs. Goddard might be sure.  When the books arrived he would let Mr. Ambrose know, of course, and they would have a day together.

So he went away, leaving the impression that he was a very good-natured and agreeable man.  Even Mrs. Ambrose was mollified.  He had shocked her by his remark about sermon writing, but he had of course not meant it, and he appeared to mean to be very civil.  It was curious to see how all severity vanished from Mrs. Ambrose’s manner so soon as the stranger who aroused it was out of sight and hearing.  She appeared as a formidably stern type of the British matron to the chance visitors who came to the vicarage; but they were no sooner gone than her natural temper was restored and she was kindness and geniality itself.

But Mrs. Goddard was very thoughtful.  She was not pleased at the fact of an addition to the Billingsfield community, and yet she liked the appearance of the squire.  He had declared his intention of calling upon her on the following day, and she would be bound to receive him.  She was young, she had been shut off from the world for two years, and the prospect of Mr. Juxon’s acquaintance was in itself not unpleasant; but the idea that he was to be permanently