Jim and his wife drove from the station in quite a Darby and Joan style, and, through fear of the Duke, rather than in compliment to the season, were prepared to enact the parts of man and wife to perfection. It was rather hard for Leah to say pretty things to Jim in public, and for Jim to hover anxiously round Leah as a lover-like husband; but the Duke expected such behaviour, and they were astute enough not to disappoint him. In his rough tweeds, with jovial looks and hearty words, Jim was quite the English squire of the story-book, and shook hands with some of his father's tenants who haunted the local station in quite the "all-men-are-brothers" style. Leah also dispensed smiles and nods to marvelling villagers, who stared open-mouthed at her beauty. But in the comfortable brougham, Jim folded his arms and lapsed into sulky silence, and Leah yawned and looked out of the window for want of something better to do. They were off the stage now, and could take their ease. Very wintry looked the landscape through which they passed. The meadow-lands were deep in snow, and gaunt, leafless trees started like black spectres from the milky ground. Ponds and ditches wore masks of darkly-green ice, and the frozen road rang like iron under the hoofs of the horses. A yellowish sky, with the promise of almost immediate snow, lowered over the starving world, and, for lack of foliage, the landscape widened to the observing eye. A dull crimson in the west showed that the sun was sinking in foggy splendour. The shrill voices of children, singing music-hall songs instead of carols, saluted their ears. "Quite like a Christmas card, isn't it, Jim?" "If it wasn't for the music-hall songs," assented her husband, looking out of his window. "Wonder if there'll be skatin'." "I daresay. I hope so. I love skating." "'Cause you can show off." "We have each our little vanities, Jim," said Lady Jim, whom hope made good-humoured. "There's the church--what a pretty old building, and how well the snow contrasts with the red roof and the ivy!" "We have to go there on Christmas Day," gloomed Kaimes. "We must show an example to the lower orders," explained Leah, in her British-matron tone. "Besides, Lionel preaches." "How awful! Why has the Duke put him in the bill?" "Mr. Dane, the vicar, is ill, and asked Lionel to fill the pulpit. The Duke has nothing to do with it." "Wish I had," grumbled Jim. "I'd have the sermon cut out." "You'd have the church turned into a music-hall, I daresay," retorted his wife, contemptuously. "But you must be as nice as you know how to Lionel. Remember, he promised to speak to the Duke." "I'll keep awake during his sermon, but I shan't promise to do more, Leah. You're runnin' this show." "Quite so, but I don't want you to spoil it. Lionel has great influence with the Duke." "Frightens the old man to death with texts and Tophet, I expect," said Jim, crossly. "I know these parsons."