"He has disappointed me very much in that way. I thought he would be my willing helper in my work. But he has turned out quite indifferent. And not only that. Barbara would have been confirmed this year if they had been in London. They told me that themselves. Of course I offered to prepare her for confirmation myself, as they decided to stay here. They shilly-shallied about it for some time, but a fortnight ago Miss Waterhouse informed me that she would not be confirmed till next year." "That's not right," said Ethel decisively. "She ought to have been confirmed long ago." The Vicar got up to leave. "I'm afraid they've very little sense of religion," he said. "Well, one must work on, through good report and ill report. Some day, perhaps, one will get the reward of all one's labours. Good-bye, dear ladies. It has done me good to talk it all over with you. And it is a real joy to rest for a time in such an atmosphere as this. I will come again next Sunday." They saw him to the hall door and watched him ride off on his bicycle. Then they returned in some excitement to the drawing-room. "The fact is that he's put his foot in it, and had a sound snub," said Rhoda. "He's behaved like a fool about Mollie, and now he's as jealous as a cat because she's left him for somebody else," said Ethel. CHAPTER XIII A LETTER George Grafton got up one morning in August at six o'clock, as was his now almost invariable custom, and went to the window. The rain, which had begun on the evening before, was coming down steadily. It looked as if it had rained all night and would continue to rain all day. Pools had already collected in depressions of the road, the slightly sunken lawn under his window was like a marsh, and the trees dripped heavily and dismally. He was greatly disappointed. For nearly a month now he had been hard at work on the rock-garden and the stream that had been led into it. It had been a fascinating occupation, planning and contriving and doing the work himself with no professional guidance, and only occasional extra labour to lift or move very heavy stones. He had worked at it nearly every morning before breakfast, with Caroline and Barbara, Bunting, and Beatrix when she had been at home, and Maurice Bradby, Worthing's pupil, as an ardent and constant helper both with brain and with hands. They had all enjoyed it immensely. Those early hours had been the best in the day. The hard work had made him as fit as he had ever been in his life, and he felt like a young man again. As he stood at the window, Bradby came splashing up the road in mackintosh and heavy boots. He was as keen as the rest, and generally first in the field. "Hallo!" Grafton called out to him. "I'm afraid there's nothing doing this morning. I don't mind getting a little wet, but this is a bit too much."