"Do you mean you contemplate living there?" Mr. Willis asked, regarding his uncle with some surprise. "From what I have heard of Wreyford, I imagine it is a very quiet place." "I do not care for bustle," Mr. Bailey answered; "but I shall see, I shall see! I have not yet settled what my plans for the future will be. To-morrow, Angel, you and I must decide when we shall go." Angel met his kindly glance with a smile which faded, however, the instant she turned her eyes to her brother's face. Gerald was looking cross and envious again, as though he begrudged the pleasure in store for her, and her happiness was overshadowed immediately. She felt she would rather remain at home, and let him take her place; but she did not like to suggest the change after Mr. Bailey's decisive remark to the effect that he should not take Gerald with him anyway. Later in the evening she found an opportunity of speaking to her brother without being overheard by her father or uncle. "Gerald," she whispered, "if you would rather, I will not go to Wreyford with Uncle Edward, I will stay at home." "What would be the good of that?" he asked impatiently, never guessing what a sacrifice it was she was willing to make. "I shan't go if you don't. Oh, don't make a fuss Angel!" She had no intention of doing that, but she felt as though Gerald had spoilt her happiness. She told herself he was selfish and unkind, and shed a few bitter tears after she was in bed at the remembrance of his manner and words; then her heart softened towards him, and she determined not to be resentful to him the following day. Had she not solemnly promised her dying mother to be loving and patient with Gerald? Angel had a very faithful heart, and she meant to keep her word. CHAPTER IV The Mickle Family WREYFORD was an old-fashioned market-town with one principal street, called Fore Street, where private houses intermingled with shops; and the eyes of passers-by were refreshed by glimpses of pretty gardens, a-bloom with flowers in summer-time, stretching in front of roomy, comfortable-looking, stuccoed dwellings. The town lay in a valley between two sheltering hills, and the gardens at the back of many of the houses stretched to the river— the Wrey—which, as it flowed by Wreyford, was little more than a sparkling stream, though some ten miles further on its course it broadened considerably, and was navigable for small boats. The town of Wreyford was flat, but it was impossible to walk far beyond in any direction without ascending a hill, when one was fully repaid by the extensive and beautiful views to be seen, look which way one would, of rich pastures and woods, the silvery river winding serpent-like along, and far in the distance the Exmoor hills.