Janet was quite sorry for the young man--he was so eagerly apologetic, so anxious to propitiate what he imagined ought to be their feelings about him. And Rachel all the time sat so silent and unresponsive. Miss Leighton drew the conversation back to the timber camp; she would like to go and see it, she said. Every one knew the Canadians were wonderful lumbermen. The Vicar's eyes had travelled back to Rachel. "Were you ever in Canada, Miss Henderson?" The question was evidently thrown out nervously at a venture, just to evoke a word or a smile from the new mistress of the farm. Rachel Henderson frowned slightly before replying. "Yes, I have been in Canada." "You have? Oh, then, you know all about it." "I know nothing about Canadian lumbering." "You were on the prairies?" "I lived some time on a prairie farm." "Everything here must seem very small to you," said the vicar sympathetically. But this amiable tone fell flat. Miss Henderson still sat silent. The vicar began to feel matters awkward and took his hat from the floor. "I trust you will call upon me for any help I can possibly be to you," he said, turning to Janet Leighton. "I should be delighted to help in the harvest if you want it. I have a pair of hands anyway, as you see!" He held them out. He expatiated a little more on his disappointment as to the front. Janet threw in a few civil words. Rachel Henderson had moved to the window, and was apparently looking at the farm-girls carrying straw across the yard. "Good-night, Miss Henderson," said the young man at last, conscious of rebuff, but irrepressibly effusive and friendly all the time. "I hope you will let your Ralstone girl come sometimes to the clubroom my sister and I have in the village? We feel young people ought to be amused, especially when they work hard." "Thank you, but it's so far away. We don't like them to be out late." "Certainly not. But in the long evenings--don't you know?" The vicar smiled persuasively. "However, there it is--whenever she comes she will be welcome. And then, as to your seat in church. There is a pew that has always belonged to the farm. It is about half-way up." "We don't go to church," said Rachel, facing him. "At least, I don't." She looked at her companion. "And I can't be counted on," said Janet, smiling. The vicar flushed a little. "Then you're not Church of England?" "I am," said Rachel indifferently; "at least I'm not anything else. Miss Leighton is a Unitarian." Then her eyes lit up with a touch of fun, and for the first time she smiled. "I'm afraid you'll think us dreadful heathens, Mr. Shenstone!"