Laura had taken Fricka on her knee, and was straightening the ribbon round the dog's neck. "Does he eat _anything_?" she asked carelessly, looking up. "If it's _nothing_--that would be interesting." "Laura! if you only would try and understand!--Of course Alan doesn't settle such a thing for himself--nobody does with us. That's only in the English Church." Augustina straightened herself, with an unconscious arrogance. Laura looked at her, smiling. "Who settles it, then?" "Why, his director, of course. He must have leave. But they have given him leave. He has chosen a rule for himself"--Augustina gave a visible gulp--"and he called Mrs. Denton to him before Lent, and told her about it. Of course he'll hide it as much as he can. Catholics must never be singular--never! But if we live in the house with him he can't hide it. And all Lent, he only eats meat on Sundays, and other days--he wrote down a list---- Well, it's like the saints--that's all!--I just cried over it!" Mrs. Fountain shook with the emotion of saying such things to Laura, but her blue eyes flamed. "What! fish and eggs?--that kind of thing?" said Laura. "As if there was any hardship in that!" "Laura! how can you be so unkind?--I must just keep it all to myself.--I won't tell you anything!" cried Augustina in exasperation. Laura walked away to the window, and stood looking out at the March buds on the sycamores shining above the river. "Does he make the servants fast too?" she asked presently, turning her head over her shoulder. "No, no," said her stepmother eagerly; "he's never hard on them--only to himself. The Church doesn't expect anything more than 'abstinence,' you understand--not real fasting--from people like them--people who work hard with their hands. But--I really believe--they do very much as he does. Mrs. Denton seems to keep the house on nothing. Oh! and, Laura--I really can't be always having extra things!" Mrs. Fountain pushed her breakfast away from her. "Please remember--nobody settles anything for themselves--in your Church," said Laura. "You know what that doctor--that Catholic doctor--said to you at Folkestone." Mrs. Fountain sighed. "And as to Mrs. Denton, I see--that explains the manners. No improvement--till Lent's over?" "Laura!" But her stepdaughter, who was at the window again looking out, paid no heed, and presently Augustina said with timid softness: "Won't you have your breakfast, Laura? You know it's here--on my tray." Laura turned, and Augustina to her infinite relief saw not frowns, but a face all radiance. "I've been watching the lambs in the field across the river. Such ridiculous enchanting things!--such jumps--and affectations. And the river's heavenly--and all the general _feel_ of it! I really don't know, Augustina, how you ever came to leave this country when you'd once been born in it." Mrs. Fountain pushed away her tray, shook her head sadly, and said nothing.