"Oh never mind," said the clergyman. "I did tell Dickson he might change the name in his song, but he wouldn't, in fact he answered rather flippantly. Well, I suppose I must find another reading, but it's a pity, when I knew of this one. Such a suitable length! Unless," he looked at Reynold, "unless your friend--" Reynold's "No!" was charged with intense astonishment and horror. "I can't play a note," he added. "But you could recite something," Mr. Pryor persisted. "Now that would really be very kind. Something like the 'Charge of the Light Brigade'--'Into the valley of death,' don't you know, 'Rode the six hundred'--that pleases an audience. We had a young man from Manchester once who did that very well, a _little_ too much action, perhaps, but remarkably well. Or something American--American humour. If it isn't flippant I see no objection to it; one should not be too particular, I think. And it is very popular. Not flippant, and not too broad--but I needn't say that--I feel very safe with you. I'm sure you would not select anything broad." Harding had recoiled a step or two, and stood with a stony gaze of unspeakable scorn. "It's out of the question," he said, "I couldn't think of such a thing. It's utterly impossible. Besides, I shall be gone." "Well, I'm very sorry," said the vicar, "I only thought perhaps you might." He turned to Barbara, "Your other friend was so very kind at our little harvest home. Mr.--I forget his name--but it was very good of him." "Mr. Scarlett," said Barbara. She had her hand up, guarding her eyes from the flickering brightness of a log which had just burst into flame, and Reynold, looking down at her, questioned within himself whether there were not a faint reflection of the name upon her cheek. But it might be his jealous fancy. "Yes, yes, Scarlett, so it was. A very amusing young man." This soothed the sullen bystander a little, though he hardly knew why, unless it might be that he fancied that Barbara would not like to hear Mr. Scarlett described as a very amusing young man. But when she answered "Very amusing," with a certain slight crispness of tone, it struck him that he would have preferred that she should be indifferent. The vicar took his leave a little later, mentioning the duties of the next day as a reason for his early departure. "Must be prepared, you know," he said as he shook hands with the squire. Mr. Hayes came back from the door, smiling his little contemptuous smile. "That means that he has to open a drawer, and take out an old sermon," he said, turning to Mr. Masters. "Well, as I was saying----" "Does he always preach old sermons?" Reynold asked Barbara. "I think so. They always look very yellow, and they always seem old." "Always preaches old sermons, and has the same old penny readings--do you go?" "Oh yes, we always go. Uncle thinks we ought to go, only he won't let me do anything." "Do you _want_ to do anything?"