It was close upon eight o'clock that evening when Helen and Nathalie started out for the parsonage. The lovely twilight hour was almost over. High in the heavens rode the crescent moon, and, as the slowly fading daylight vanished, its white light penetrated the soft gloom which lay like a shroud over the manor park, and trees and lawns and winding paths came suddenly to life, as by the touch of a fairy wand. A sighing breeze stirred the leaves, from a fountain near at hand came the soft splash of falling waters and the night air vibrated gently with the myriad sounds of insect life. There was a rush and a scamper, and around the corner of the house the children raced and threw themselves upon Helen, with a shout of delight. "You naughty youngsters," chided their sister gently. "You ought to be in bed this minute, everyone of you." "We's going right off," cried Gladys breathlessly. "On'y we wants to be kissed first." Helen stooped down to fulfill their clamorous demand. "Now, be off," she laughed, straightening herself up and shaking a mildly reproachful finger at them, "and don't forget to go in and say good-night to Auntie," and then she and Nathalie proceeded leisurely on their way. They found the vine-covered porch of the parsonage quite overflowing with people. Wendell Churchill and Farr stepped hastily forward, and, after an interchange of cordial greetings, found seats for them. "How late you are," called Nan, from somewhere in the background. "I thought you were not coming." Helen left apologies and explanations to Nathalie, and turned to answer an inquiry from Farr in regard to Jean. "I am sorry to say she is deep in a book," she said, looking up at him with a smile, "and we could not persuade her to leave it. However, she promised to follow us shortly." "And does Miss Jean always keep her promises?" Farr asked lightly. "I think she does," Helen rejoined, meeting his eyes for an instant. "Come, Helen. Start some of the good old hymns." At Mollie's suggestion Helen's clear soprano took up the refrain of "Lead, kindly light," and the others joined in heartily. From long practice their voices blended beautifully. They had been singing for nearly an hour when Farr rose quietly to his feet. "Miss Lawrence," he said, bending over her chair, "don't you think Miss Jean should be brought to a realizing sense of her delinquencies and coerced into making some reparation?" "Indeed, I do," she assented with a frank laugh, "but what are we going to do about it?" "I don't think my desertion would be noticed if I should go in search of her," Farr suggested, lowering his voice. "Do you?" Helen gave him a swift glance of amusement. "'I would not hear thine enemy say so.' But go and see what your persuasive powers can do."