"No, Miss Seyton, whatever better things we may succeed in doing in Elderthwaite in the future, it is your doing that the wish to improve had been awakened." Virginia blushed at this magnificent compliment; but it was true. High principle, recommended by gentleness and humility, must in the end win its way. These various changes formed a safe subject of conversation in a meeting that could not fail on many accounts to be trying, when Cheriton, as he came up to the vicarage, met Virginia going in there also. He did not want to talk about his own health or home difficulties, she could not fail to be conscious; but the parson was only restrained, or _not_ restrained, by her presence from lamentations over Alvar's succession, and looked unspeakably wicked when Cherry implied that they were getting on smoothly. So the new school came in handy, and Parson Seyton talked about a "Government grant," and winked at Cherry over his shoulder. "It's all getting beyond me, Cherry," he said; "I'm not the man for these new lights." "You'll have to get a curate, parson," said Cherry. "Nay--nay!" said the parson sharply. "I'll have no strangers prying into all our holes and corners, and raking out the dust. I don't like curates--hate their long coats and long faces." "You might put in the advertisement `round and rosy preferred,'" said Cherry. "Nay, nay, my lad; no curates for me, unless _you_ will apply for the situation." "Cherry has a _very_ long coat on," said Virginia, smiling and pointing to his "ulster." "And not too round a face nowadays, eh? Never mind, if he came here I'd let him wear--" "A cassock, perhaps," said Cheriton. "I feel all the force of the compliment. But I think Queenie is the best curate for Elderthwaite at present." Virginia's heart danced at the familiar brotherly name by which Cheriton had learned from Ruth to call her in the days of her engagement, but which had never become her home appellation, and something in her face made him whisper under his breath as she rose to take leave,-- "Though Oakby grudges her to you." Virginia hurried away, but she was presently overtaken by Cheriton as she paused at a cottage door, and they walked up the lane together, and talked of the Stanforths; and when Virginia praised Gipsy, neither could help a smile of implied comprehension and sympathy. It was a bright, pleasant day, the puddles and ditches of the Elderthwaite hedgerows sparkled in the spring sunshine, the blackthorn put out its shy blossoms on each side. Virginia smiled and looked up gaily, and Cheriton's voice took its natural lively tone as he related some of the humours of their Spanish journey.