Cyril had his run for nothing more than to accompany his father, whom he met returning home. But the Rector was in a most genial frame of mind, and father and son came back to the rectory in the highest of spirits, Cyril bounding up to his mother's room without a trace of illness left. "Take the post? That I will, and we'll forget all about the past," he cried. "I am glad you like her. She's the dearest and best of girls, and I love her. There, I'm not ashamed to say so. I do love her dearly, and ten times more for her nice, modest, retiring ways. Father, I'm going to settle down with the best of wives, and--oh, hang it all, I wish I'd known you were going to bring her here. I say, what a good old fellow you are!" And plenty more in the same strain, so that as the question was discussed the hours flew by, and Mrs Mallow, weary though she felt with extra exertion, felt that happy days were coming once again, and she went at last to her pillow to dream of the girl who was to bring peace to her home, and restore her errant boy, bringing him from a reckless, careless life to one that was to do honour to them all. "Quite well, thank you!" said Cyril to himself, as he leaped out of bed the next morning, and, after dressing, lit a cigar for what he called a matutinal whiff, but really under the impression that he could think better under its influence. For there was a good deal to be thought about that day, and a good deal to be done. "I shall have to talk pretty seriously to Master Frank," he said. "There must be no nonsense if Sage is to be my wife. Let's see if he is up. No, I'll leave it for the present; I don't want him to turn nasty if I can help it." He knew, from the previous night's conversation, that the Churchwarden had made no further objection to his suit, and, under the circumstances, he felt that the proper course would be for him to go straight over to Kilby Farm, and in a frank, manly way thank him, and talk to him of the future. "Hang it all, though," he cried, pettishly, "I hate the very idea. It makes a fellow seem such a fool. _Ask papa_! Hang papa. I don't think I shall go." He went down to breakfast, and when it was over the Rector said-- "By the way, Cyril, I think I'd walk over and see Mr Portlock. He would like the attention, and it is your duty to pay him all respect." "Oh, yes; of course, father," he said, impatiently. "But don't go down to the school, Cyril," said the Rector, rather anxiously. "Oh, no; of course not," said the son. "We need not mind what people say, but it is as well not to give them cause for chattering. There is nothing to be ashamed of, but while Sage has the school we'll let matters go on as usual." "But she must not stay there, father." "Certainly not, Cyril. I'll chat the matter over with Portlock, and see about a fresh mistress as soon as possible." "That's right," said Cyril; and before, his father could say more he was gone.