‘The prettiest maid is left out of harness, however,’ said the clerk.  ’The little witness was the chicken to my taste—­Lord forgive me for saying it, and a man with a wife and family!’

Sol and his father turned to withdraw, and soon forgot the remark, but it was frequently recalled by Christopher.

‘Do you think of trying to see Ethelberta before you leave?’ said Sol.

‘Certainly not,’ said Chickerel.  ’Mr. Mountclere’s advice was good in that.  The more we keep out of the way the more good we are doing her.  I shall go back to Anglebury by the carrier, and get on at once to London.  You will go with me, I suppose?’

‘The carrier does not leave yet for an hour or two.’

’I shall walk on, and let him overtake me.  If possible, I will get one glimpse of Enckworth Court, Berta’s new home; there may be time, if I start at once.’

‘I will walk with you,’ said Sol.

‘There is room for one with me,’ said Christopher.  ’I shall drive back early in the afternoon.’

‘Thank you,’ said Sol.  ‘I will endeavour to meet you at Corvsgate.’

Thus it was arranged.  Chickerel could have wished to search for Picotee, and learn from her the details of this mysterious matter.  But it was particularly painful to him to make himself busy after the event; and to appear suddenly and uselessly where he was plainly not wanted to appear would be an awkwardness which the pleasure of seeing either daughter could scarcely counterbalance.  Hence he had resolved to return at once to town, and there await the news, together with the detailed directions as to his own future movements, carefully considered and laid down, which were sure to be given by the far-seeing Ethelberta.

Sol and his father walked on together, Chickerel to meet the carrier just beyond Enckworth, Sol to wait for Christopher at Corvsgate.  His wish to see, in company with his father, the outline of the seat to which Ethelberta had been advanced that day, was the triumph of youthful curiosity and interest over dogged objection.  His father’s wish was based on calmer reasons.

Christopher, lone and out of place, remained in the church yet a little longer.  He desultorily walked round.  Reaching the organ chamber, he looked at the instrument, and was surprised to find behind it a young man.  Julian first thought him to be the organist; on second inspection, however, he proved to be a person Christopher had met before, under far different circumstances; it was our young friend Ladywell, looking as sick and sorry as a lily with a slug in its stalk.

The occasion, the place, and their own condition, made them kin.  Christopher had despised Ladywell, Ladywell had disliked Christopher; but a third item neutralized the other two—­it was their common lot.

Christopher just nodded, for they had only met on Ethelberta’s stairs.  Ladywell nodded more, and spoke.  ‘The church appears to be interesting,’ he said.