But Evelyn counted St. John's architecturally ugly, and she found Mr. Kennedy prosy. His mild "comforting" sermons, which delighted the hearts of the middle-aged ladies and elderly gentlemen of the congregation, had only a soporific effect upon Evelyn. Her cultivated musical taste, repelled by the tuneless shouting of St. John's, was attracted by the well-trained choir of Dulveriford. The next step was a warm liking on her part for Mr. Trevelyan, and a girlish readiness to submit herself to his teaching. How much of this preference sprang from a spirit of opposition, it would be hard to say. No doubt it was real of its kind. Miss Devereux could not prevent the personal acquaintance. The two families had lived too long in close neighbourhood to be strangers; and, so far as his connections went, Mr. Trevelyan might be counted unexceptionable. Mrs. Willoughby had, however, always strenuously resisted the growth of acquaintanceship into friendship; and Sybella set herself to do the same. Thereby, at once, she enhanced the value of the friendship to Evelyn. There were bones of contention enough between them, without this in addition. Whatever the one thought, the other did not think, on every conceivable subject, from questions of Church and State, down to the quilling of a frill. Sybella's incessant quoting of Mrs. Willoughby provoked Evelyn. She did not see what it had to do with her occupations, or why she needed to follow certain rules, merely because Sybella had followed them at her age. "I don't intend to pass my days uselessly," she answered. "But some regular plan—Indeed, I assure you, it is really necessary for young girls. Dear aunt always said—" Evelyn's involuntary movement was like that of a high-mettled horse, akin to a shake of the mane, with a backward step, as if in retreat. "Wait a moment. Pray do not be so impatient, Evelyn. It is necessary that I should sometimes speak; and you ought not to be annoyed. It is—" plaintively, "only for your good." "Well?" in a questioning tone. "There is one thing I must mention. I am sorry, but it is my positive duty to—otherwise I would—If I am not misinformed, you went yesterday—I have reason to believe that you were at the Rectory—that you called there." "Yes." "It was not necessary—so soon. Only last week, and again yesterday! I thought had made this clear to you, but I seem to have failed. I must speak more plainly. I do not wish to complain, but, once for all, pray remember that I object to any intimacy in that direction. I have said this before, and it seems to have had no effect. You must please to recollect. An occasional call is all very well, but not oftener than is necessary." "Why not?"