Before a week was ended everybody concerned was agreed that Emmanuel would do. The children liked their new master. There was something in his quiet manner which won both liking and respect. It was thought that he knew a great deal. He had taken the trouble to explain things to his pupils. He had enlarged upon the meagre history of England, in which the kings and heroes, politicians and Churchmen, were the merest shadows, and had told the boys of the greatness and power that had been in their native land since Alfred the Saxon, warrior and poet, kindled the light of letters amongst a barbarous people. The more intelligent of the boys were delighted with him--even the stupid ones brightened under his tuition. He was so keenly interested in his work. The pupils could hardly find their lessons a burden, when the master took so much pleasure in them. On Sunday he sat at the end of the church, with his pupils ranged before him on a row of benches beside the organ. He kept them in wonderful order, and the occasional dropping of marbles and attacks of spasmodic coughing which had been apt to disturb the congregation under the rule of Emmanuel’s predecessor were no longer heard. Cyril was delighted at the success of his scheme. The Vicar and churchwardens did not wait for the three months of probation to come to an end, before they expressed their satisfaction. At midsummer, Emmanuel Joyce was formally appointed schoolmaster, and his salary began from that time. The school-house was beautifully kept by Mrs. Joyce; the cottage and garden were a picture of neatness, unsurpassed by any house or garden in Little Yafford. Cyril had the deep delight of knowing that he had made two people happy. His own life went on very quietly all this time. He was certainly happier at Little Yafford than he ever could have been at Bridford. He had plenty to do, and his work was successful. He saw the church crowded on a Sunday evening, and knew that people came from far and wide to hear him preach. Had he been vain of his power as a preacher his vanity might have been fully satisfied. The week-day services were well attended. The people led better lives than when he had first come among them. There was less drunkenness, there were fewer brawls. Over the young people his influence was powerful. He gave a more intellectual tone to their lives. He had opened a reading-room, which was now a self-supporting and self-governing institution, but its committee always looked to him for advice in the choice of books. He saw a good deal of the Dulcimers, in his occasional leisure hours, and with the kind and genial Vicar he was always happy. The keenest pang that he felt in all his sad memories of the past was when he passed the Water House, and saw its darkened windows, and remembered that she who should have reigned there as a centre of light and happiness was a wanderer none knew where, her fair fame clouded, her youth blighted.