Once or twice a creak of a farm waggon was heard along the road; it was too well known a sound to awake her attention; then came a sound far less common--the sharp trot of a horse moving without wheels behind him. Diana started instantly and went to a window that commanded the road. The sound ceased, but she saw why; the rider had reined in his steed and was walking slowly past; the same rider she had expected to see, with the dark uniform and the soldier's cap. He looked hard at the place; could he be stopping? The next moment Diana had flown back to her own room, had dropped the dress which was half off, and was arraying herself in a fresh print; and she was down-stairs almost as soon as the visitor knocked. Diana opened the door. She knew Mrs. Starling was deep in supper preparations, mingled with provisions for the next day's lunches. Uniforms have a great effect, to eyes unaccustomed to them. How Lieut. Knowlton came to be wearing his uniform in the country, so far away from any post, I don't know; perhaps he did. He _said_, that he had nothing else he liked for riding in. But a blue frock, with gold bars across the shoulders and military buttons, is more graceful than a frieze coat. And it was a gracious, graceful head that was bared at the sight of the door-opener. "You see," he said with a smile, "I couldn't go by! The other day I was your pensioner, in kindness. Now I want to come in my own character, if you'll let me." "Is it different from the character I saw the other day?" said Diana, as she led the way into the parlour. "You did not see my character the other day, did you?" "I saw what you showed me!" He laughed, and then laughed again; looking a little surprised, a good deal amused. "I would give a great deal to know what you thought of me." "Why would you?" Diana said, quite quietly. "That I might correct your mistakes, of course." "Suppose I made any mistakes," said Diana, "you could only tell me that you thought differently. I don't see that I should be much wiser." "I find I made a mistake about you!" he said, laughing again, but shaking his head. "But every person is like a new language to those that see him for the first time; don't you think so? One has to learn the signs of the language by degrees, before one can read it off like a book." "I never thought about that," said Diana. "No; I think that is true of _some_ people; not everybody. All the Pleasant Valley people seem to me to belong to one language. All except one, perhaps." "Who is the exception?" Mr. Knowlton asked quickly. "I don't know whether you know him." "O, I know everybody here--or I used to." "I was thinking of somebody who didn't use to be here. He has only just come. I mean Mr. Masters." "The parson?" "Yes." "I don't know him much. I suppose he belongs to the _parson_ language, to carry on our figure. They all do." "He don't," said Diana. "That is what struck me in him. What are the signs of the 'parson' language?"