But when, after the Second Lesson, the Vicar published ‘the Banns of Marriage between Christopher John Charles Pendragon, Bachelor, and Audrey de Lisle, Spinster, both of this Parish,’ the concluding sentences were lost in a spontaneous rendering of Sundial’s favourite hymn. This was the Old Hundredth. The villagers of Sundial are simple folk. IVAN IVAN Belinda Seneschal, spinster, leaned back in her chair. “What’s to be done?” she demanded. Her solicitor fingered his chin. “It’s simple enough,” he said, surveying a letter. “The house and its contents are yours—and Captain Pomeroy’s. They’ve only to be made over, and then, er, then . . .” “Exactly,” observed Miss Seneschal. “What then?” Forsyth, solicitor, frowned. “Then you arrange to take possession.” Belinda raised her sweet eyebrows. “Mr. Forsyth, d’you know Captain Pomeroy?” “Very well. He’s a client of mine. As a matter of fact, he’s due here in ten minutes’ time—I imagine, to discuss a similar letter to this.” He tapped the document. “It’s rather convenient.” “It isn’t convenient at all,” said Belinda Seneschal. “I’ll tell you why. Six months ago Captain Pomeroy and I were engaged. It wasn’t announced, but we were. Well, now we aren’t.” Forsyth thought very fast. “I see,” he said slowly. “Ah, yes, I see now. That explains the bequest. The testator——” “We met him at Biarritz,” said Belinda. “His dog was run over by a car, and we did what we could. Poor old man, he was beside himself. After that we used to go and see him sometimes to try and cheer him up. It wasn’t much to do, and he was pathetically grateful. Of course, we never dreamed . . .” “One never does,” said Forsyth. “Yes?” “Well, that’s all,” said Miss Seneschal. “He knew of our engagement and naturally assumed it was going to end in marriage. So out of the kindness of his heart he’s left us his house. It was extremely handsome of him. It’s a perfectly lovely place.” Forsyth referred to the letter. . . . . _my property at Biarritz, known as_ =Les Iles d’Or=, _including the villa and all its contents, jointly to Miss Belinda Seneschal . . . and Captain Ivan Pomeroy . . . in the belief that they will appreciate it and neither sell nor let the same_. . . . “It’s a question of arrangement,” he said. “That’s all I can say. I don’t suppose you want to renounce—surrender your share?” Belinda sat up. “And have him take both? Not much.” “Well, there you are,” said Forsyth. “In view of the testator’s words, I take it you won’t care to sell, so there’s nothing for it. You must arrange to share it.” Here a telephone buzzed. “Excuse me.” He picked up the receiver. “Yes? . . . Right. Show him into the waiting-room.” He replaced the receiver. “Here he is, Miss Seneschal.” That lady leaped to her feet. “Then I’m off,” she said.