There was a gathering of notable people in John Dallington’s house at Darentdale, who intended together to see the old year out and the new year in. Arthur Knight had issued an invitation to them all to meet at Brent House in London, the home of his boyhood, but if they had done so the meeting must have been without Margaret, for she declared that not for all the friends she had would she leave her baby, or run the risk of his taking cold on a journey, and therefore the meeting was at Darentdale, since Margaret’s absence was not to be tolerated. It was a representative gathering, and Arthur Knight called it a “stock-taking supper,” for they had met, not only to see one another, but to consider their gains and losses. He was the first to arrive, and Dr. Stapleton came next. Then followed Mr. Collinson, known all over England now as the Children’s Pastor, because he had insisted that a minister’s first duty was to the young of the congregation. Mr. Stapleton, the builder, was also there; so was Mr. Emerson, the vicar of Darentdale; and also Miss Wentworth and Mary Wythburn, besides Mr. Whitwell and his daughter Tom, with several other friends and helpers, among them a man who was ready to give his life for Arthur Knight, a servant and companion, who always spoke of himself as “the boy who threw the stone at the Knight.” There were also one visitor from America and one from Germany. Darentdale presented a different appearance from that which it revealed on the morning after its master had returned from his travels. There were now no leaves on the trees nor primroses in the woods; and yet, as he glanced over the scene, he thought it more lovely than ever. One reason was that he had kept his resolution and redeemed the land. It was a happy day to him, as well as to his uncle and cousin, when he paid off the mortgage which had always been a trouble to him. And the means by which he had been enabled to do this had in themselves been reasons of rejoicing. He had been quite determined not to use a penny of his wife’s money, even for so good an end. Equally determined was he that the labourers on his farm should not suffer because he had a debt to pay. The way out of his difficulty had been one proposed by his friend Knight, who had come to him one day with a proposition. “Since your land is so dear to you,” he said, “I do not ask you to sell it; but will you let me have a few fields on a long lease that I may plant a factory and some workmen’s houses upon it?” Dallington was only too glad to do this. There was a waste piece of land that only grew gorse and bushes, and that land was now covered with pretty houses, of which Dallington was as proud as Knight. The latter had conducted the American visitor over this place in the morning, and he wanted to talk of nothing else. “Will you explain to me, Mr. Knight, what you mean by calling this new colony of yours a Missionary Settlement?” he asked.