If disappointment as to the absent was weighing upon Roland's mind, he was unconsciously exemplifying the axiom as to a compensating element in all things. It was a few days after The Skegs exploration episode, and he had been making up his mind to take an opportunity of getting the rector to tell him the whole story of the legendary Ban, not that he believed in it himself, or was inclined to, but it would be interesting to hear the so-called facts. Here was just such an opportunity, as they would be alone together after dinner. "You'll have a wet ride back, Mr Dorrien, I'm afraid," said Margaret, as they sat down to table. "It's coming down harder than ever." "Oh, that's nothing to some of my old privations," he laughed, "except that the very snugness now will make it all the rougher to turn out." And snug it was. The drawn curtains only deadened the constant patter of the rain upon the windows, and the suggestion of the sort of evening outside thrown out by the sound, enhanced the sense of comfort and restfulness within. Under these circumstances, three people, sufficiently well known to each other to be able to converse without restraint, are in a position to pass a thoroughly pleasant evening. Yet to one, at any rate, of these three there was a sense of something wanting--a vacant place, perhaps, as of somebody absent, whose absence was really missed. Roy, the irrepressible, with his wonted off-handedness, was begging impartially from everybody in turn. "Bother that post!" exclaimed the rector, as a sharp double knock cut across the conversation. "A man can't dine in peace without this age of progress chucking its reprehensible invention into the flavour of his sirloin. Here we are--a whole stack of hopes and fears"--he went on, contemplating, with a whimsical expression, the sheaf of letters at that moment brought in. "First, diocesan--that'll keep. Item--invitation to preach--ditto, ditto. That's yours, Margaret--and--this is mine--from Olive. No, it's for me, all for me," he cried gleefully. "Not for you at all, Margaret, this time. Let's see what she says. Excuse me, Dorrien--sink ceremony. By the way, I promised you a quiet dinner in the absence of those two chatterboxes, and one of them sends us two sheets of clatter by post--ha-ha!" It was very pleasant to watch the affectionate delight with which the old man read through his favourite child's letter. "Why, they're only going to stay ten days after all," he cried in astonishment. "The child isn't generally so eager to get back to her old dad, after the joys and glories of the metropolis. Here's a message for you, Dorrien: `Tell Mr Dorrien, I saw a love of a dog the other day, that almost outshines Roy. Almost--not quite--mind you tell him _almost_ or he'll never speak to me again.'"