Dinner was hardly a sociable meal at the vicarage. Olive was in her place looking hot and dusty when Mildred came downstairs, and Chriss tore in and took her seat in breathless haste, but the boys did not make their appearance till it was half over. Richard immediately seated himself by his aunt, and explained the reason of their delay in a low tone, though he interrupted himself once by a few reproachful words to Olive on the comfortless appearance of the room. 'It is Chriss's fault,' returned Olive. 'I have asked her so often not to bring all that litter in at dinner-time; and, Chriss, you have pulled down the blind too.' Richard darted an angry look at the offender, which was met defiantly, and then he resumed the subject, though with a perturbed brow. Roy and he had been over to Musgrave to read classics with the vicar. Roy had left Sedbergh, and since their trouble their father had been obliged to resign this duty to another. 'He was bent on preparing me for Oxford himself, but since his illness he has occupied himself solely with parish matters. So Mr. Wigram offered to read with us for a few months, and as the offer was too good a one to be refused, Roy and I walk over three or four times a week.' 'Have you settled to take Holy Orders then, Richard?' asked Mildred, a little surprised. 'It has been settled for me, I believe,' he returned, a slight hardness perceptible in his voice; 'at least it is my father's great wish, and I have not yet made up my mind to disappoint him, though I own there is a probability of my doing so.' 'And Roy?' Richard smiled grimly. 'You had better ask him; he is looked upon in the light of a sucking barrister, but he is nothing but a dabbler in art at present; he has been under a hedge most of the morning, taking the portrait of a tramp that he chose to consider picturesque. Where is your Zingara, Roy?' But Roy chose to be deaf, and went on eagerly with his plans for the afternoon's excursion to Podgill. Mildred watched the party set out, Polly and Chriss in their broad-brimmed hats, and Roy with a sketch-book under his arm. Richard was going over to Nateby with his father. Olive looked after them longingly. 'My dear, are you not going too? it will do you good; and I am sure you have a headache.' 'Oh, it is nothing,' returned Olive, putting her hair back with her hands; 'it is so warm this afternoon, and----' 'And you were up late last night,' continued Mildred in a sympathising voice. 'Not later than usual. I often work when the others go to bed; it does not hurt me,' she finished hastily, as a dissenting glance from Mildred met her. 'Indeed, I am quite strong, and able to bear much more.' 'We must not work the willing horse, then. Come, my dear, put on your hat; or let me fetch it for you, and we will overtake the Podgill party.'