"You might have known, Cyril, that I should not be long," said the Rector coldly. "Good-morning, Miss Portlock," and without another word he went to the door, pausing to hold it open while the new-comer passed out, saluting the mistress as he did so; and then Sage Portlock was left to continue her task. PART ONE, CHAPTER FIVE. ONE OF THE BOYS. "Mr Mallow seemed displeased with Mr Cyril," thought Sage Portlock, as she went on with her duties. "He must have done something to annoy his father." Her thoughts left the subject the next moment, as she casually glanced at the window, through which the sun was streaming, for it was one of those glorious days when the dying year seems to flicker up, as it were, into a hectic glow, and for the time being it seems as if summer has come again. In the schoolroom there was the busy hum of some sixty girls, reading, repeating, answering questions, and keeping up that eternal whispering which it is so hard to check, and the sun's rays as they streamed across the room made broad, bold bars full of dancing dust. Outside there was the pleasant country, and, in spite of herself, the thoughts of the young mistress strayed away a couple of miles to her home, where on such a day she knew that they would be busy gathering the late apples, those great, red-streaked fellows, which would be laid in the rack and covered with straw till Christmas. The great baking-pear tree, too, would be yielding its bushels of heavy hard fruit, and the big medlar tree down by the gate--she seemed to see it, as she thought--would be one blaze of orange and red and russet gold. It would be delicious, she thought, to run home at once instead of being busy there; but the next moment a calm, satisfied smile came across her face, as she recalled the long tedious days she had passed the year before at Westminster, and began thinking and wondering about some one else. "I wonder how he is getting on?" she thought; "and whether he will get one of the highest certificates. He tries so hard, I should think it is almost certain." There was a pause here--a busy pause, during which a change of duty was instituted in two or three classes; but Sage Portlock's thoughts went back soon after, in spite of herself, to the progress of Luke Ross at the London training college. As she thought her cheeks reddened slightly, and she could not help recalling the spiteful words of the old master; and, as thoughts will, hers bounded on ahead faster and faster, till in effect she did see the day when her old friend and companion would be settled at Lawford, and perhaps a closer connection than that of master and mistress of the schools have come to pass. Meanwhile the look of displeasure upon the Rev Eli Mallow's countenance had grown deeper and more marked as he walked away from the school with his son, and angry words had taken place.