A sudden crash startled them; shivers of glass fell before their feet; fit accompaniment to the shattered hopes of one who stood there. Kate Dancox, aiming at Mr. Grame's hat, had sent her ball through the window. He leaped away to catch the culprit, and Eliza Monk sat down on the bench, all gladness gone out of her. Her love-dream had turned out to be a snare and a delusion. "Who did that?" Captain Monk, frightened from his after-dinner nap by the crash, came forth in anger. Kate got a box on the ear, and was sent to bed howling. "You should send her to school, papa." "And I will," declared the Captain. "She startled me out of a sleep. Out of a dream, too. And it is not often I dream. I thought I was hearing the chimes again." "Chimes which I have not yet been fortunate enough to hear at all," said Mr. Grame with a smile. Eliza recalled the sound of the bells she had set in motion, and thought it must have reached her father in his sleep. "By George, no! You shall, though, Grame. They shall ring the new year in when it comes." "Aunt Emma won't like that," laughingly commented Eliza. She was trying to be gay and careless before Robert Grame. "Aunt Emma may _dis_like it!" retorted the Captain. "She has picked up some ridiculously absurd notion, Grame, that the bells bring ill-luck when they are heard. Women are so foolishly superstitious." "That must be a very far-fetched superstition," said the parson. "One might as well believe in witches," mocked the Captain. "I have given in to her fancies for some years, not to cross her, and allowed the bells to be silent: she's a good woman on the whole; but be hanged if I will any longer. On the last day of this year, Grame, you shall hear the chimes." * * * * * How it came about nobody exactly knew, unless it was through Hubert, but matters were smoothed for the parson and Lucy. Mrs. Carradyne knew his worth, and she saw that they were as much in love with one another as ever could be Hodge and Joan. She liked the idea of Lucy being settled near her--and the vicarage, large and handsome, could have its unused rooms opened and furnished. Mr. Grame honestly avowed that he should have asked for Lucy before, but for his poverty; he supposed that Lucy was poor also. "That is so; Lucy has nothing of her own," said Mrs. Carradyne to this. "But I am not in that condition." "Of course not. But--pardon me--I thought your property went to your son." Mrs. Carradyne laughed. "A small estate of his father's, close by here, became my son's at his father's death," she said. "My own money is at my disposal; the half of it will eventually be Lucy's. When she marries, I shall allow her two hundred a year: and upon that, and your stipend, you will have to get along together." "It will be like riches to me," said the young parson all in a glow.