Millie Bushell landed, her dripping clothes clinging round her. Victor was shivering, for the evening had turned chilly. Uncle Van had a bit of rope from the boat-shed in his hand, and a doubtful smile on his face. "We'd best get Miss Bushel home," he suggested, and they started in gloomy procession. Charlie, in remorse, gave Millie his arm. "Oh, how could you?" she murmured piteously. She was cold, she was wet, and she was sure that she looked frightful. I--I didn't do it on purpose, "Charlie blurted out eagerly. "On purpose! Well, I suppose not," she exclaimed, bewildered. Charlie flushed. Victor shot a swift glance at him. Half-way home they met Mrs. Marland and the whole affair had to be explained to her. Charlie essayed the task. "Still, I don't see how you managed to upset the canoe," observed Mrs. Marland. "No more do I," said Victor Sutton. Charlie gave it up. "I'm so sorry, Millie," he whispered. "You must try to forgive me." So, once again, the coast was left clear for Agatha Merceron, if she came that night. But, whether she did or not, the other Agatha came no more, and Charlie's great resolve went unfulfilled. Yet the next evening he went: alone to the temple, and he found, lying on the floor, a little handkerchief trimmed with lace and embroidered with the name of "Agatha." This he put in his pocket, thanking heaven that his desperate manoeuvre had kept the shrine inviolate the day before. "Poor Millie!" said he. "But then I had to do it." "I hear," remarked Lady Merceron a few days later, "that one of Mr. Prime's friends has left him--not Willie's young lady--the other." "Has she?" asked Charlie. No one pursued the subject, and, after a moment's pause, Mrs. Marland, who was sitting next to Charlie, asked him in a low voice whether he had been to the Pool that evening--. "No," answered Charlie. "I don't go every night." "Oh, poor dear Miss Bushell!" laughed Mrs. Marland; and, when Charlie looked inquiringly at her, she shook her head. "You see, I know something of young men," she explained. CHAPTER V AN UNFORESEEN CASE "I wish to goodness," remarked the Reverend Sigismund Taylor rubbing the bridge of his nose with a corner of the Manual, "that the Vicar had never introduced auricular confession. It may be in accordance with the practice of the Primitive Church, but--one does meet with such very curious cases. There's nothing the least like it, in the Manual." He opened the book and searched its pages over again. No, the case had not been foreseen. It must be included in those which were "left to the discretion of the priest." "It's a poor Manual," said Mr. Taylor, throwing it down and putting his hands in the pocket of his cassock. "Poor girl! She was quite distressed, too. I must have something to tell her when she comes next week."