The vicar of Amber Guiting was a family man and merciful. The school children all creaked and pattered out of church after morning prayer, and any other small people in the congregation were encouraged to do likewise, the well-filled vicarage pew setting the example. Therefore, Miles reckoned, that even supposing Miss Morton took the little boy to church (he couldn't conceive of anyone having the temerity to escort little Fay thither), they would come out in about three-quarters of an hour after the bell stopped. But he had no intention of waiting for that. The moment the bell ceased he--unaccompanied by any of the dogs grouped about him at that moment--was going to investigate the Wren's End garden. He knew every corner of it, and he intended to unearth Meg and the children if they were to be found. Besides, he ardently desired to see William. William was a lawful pretext. No one could see anything odd in his calling at Wren's End to see William. It was a perfectly natural thing to do. Confound Mrs. Trent. Confound Pen, what did she want to interfere for? Confound that bell. Would it never stop? Yes it had. No it hadn't. Yes ... it had. Give a few more minutes for laggards, and then---- Three melancholy and disappointed dogs were left in the Manor Garden, while Miles swung down the drive, past the church, and into the road that led to Wren's End. What a morning it was! The whole world seemed to have put on its Sunday frock. There had been rain in the night, and the air was full of the delicious fresh-washed smell of spring herbage. Wren's End seemed wonderfully quiet and deserted as Miles turned into the drive. As he neared the house he paused and listened, but there was no sound of high little voices anywhere. Were they at church, then? They couldn't be indoors on such a beautiful day. Miles whistled softly, knowing that if William were anywhere within hearing, that would bring him at the double. But no joyfully galumphing William appeared to welcome him. He had no intention of ringing to inquire. No, he'd take a good look round first, before he went back to hang about outside the church. It was pleasant in the Wren's End garden. Presently he went down the broad central path of the walled garden, with borders of flowers and beds of vegetables. Half-way down, in the sunniest, warmest place, he came upon a hammock slung between an apple-tree not quite out and a pear-tree that was nearly over, and a voice from the hammock called sleepily: "Is that you, Earley? I wish you'd pick up my cigarette case for me; it's fallen into the lavender bush just below." "Yes, Miss," a voice answered that was certainly not Earley's. Meg leaned out of the hammock to look behind her. "Hullo!" she said. "Why are you not in church? I can't get up because I'm a prisoner on _parole_. Short of a thunderstorm nothing is to move me from this hammock till Miss Ross comes back."