"Oh!" Mrs Errol's tone was slightly disappointed. "That means, I suppose, that they will live mostly in town?" "And abroad," he answered. "They travel a lot." "Well," observed Mrs Errol brightly, "they will probably do something when they are here to liven the parish a little. We want a few modern ideas; our ideas in Moresby are covered with lichen. Lichen is picturesque, but it's a form of decay, after all." John Musgrave appeared surprised. Here was another person who hungered for change; it was possibly, he decided, a feminine characteristic. "Moresby compares, I believe, very favourably with other small places," he said. "I daresay it does." She laughed abruptly. "If it didn't it might be more gay." The vicar smiled at her indulgently. "I've a rebel, you see, John, in my own household. Mary only requires a kindred spirit to break into open revolt. The coming of Mrs Chadwick may create an upheaval." "I doubt whether the advent of Mrs Chadwick will work any great change," John Musgrave returned in his heavy, serious fashion. "We are too settled to have the current of our ideas disturbed by a fresh arrival. She will adapt herself, possibly, to our ways." Mrs Errol rose with a little shrug of the shoulders, and left the room. Had John Musgrave, she wondered, ever treated any subject other than seriously? In anyone else this habit of bringing the weight of the mind to bear on every trivial matter would have seemed priggish; but it sat on John Musgrave so naturally that, beyond experiencing a passing irritation at times, she could not feel severe towards him. He would have made, in her opinion, an admirable bishop. The vicar followed her exit with his glance, and then dropped leisurely into a chair and stretched his feet towards the fire. "When is Mrs Sommers coming this way again?" he asked, not so much conversationally as because he liked John Musgrave's sister, and was always glad when she returned to her childhood's home, which she did at fitful and infrequent intervals. The man whom he addressed leaned back in his chair and stared thoughtfully into the flickering flames. The question recalled his own lonely fireside, the solitariness of which always struck him more forcibly while seated beside the cheery vicarage hearth. He missed Belle more as the years passed. "She did not say," he answered. "She has many claims upon her time since Charlie entered Parliament. I wish it were otherwise. I miss Belle." "That's only natural," the other answered. "She is so bright." "Yes." John Musgrave looked directly at the speaker. "She is bright. She's companionable. I expect that's what Charlie thought." Walter Errol laughed. "No doubt," he agreed. "Yes, she's bright," John Musgrave repeated, as though the realisation of this fact, striking him for the first time, accounted for what he had been at a loss to comprehend before. "I expect that's why Charlie married her."