Formerly it had been hard to get Madeline for tea. Young men, who had recently started going to the City, used to drop in about this time and take her off. There were one or two about now, but she had no eyes for them. He piloted her into a corner, and went to get the tea from the buffet which was presided over by Mrs. Cator herself. She kept him chatting while a fresh pot was made, and he was steering his way back to Madeline with the little tray when he saw Edith. It was early for her, for she arrived, as a rule, with the rest of the Endeavourers. There she was, however, with her mother in a black dress and a bead bonnet. Mrs. Thornton was well known in the congregation. She aspired to rather a high estate, which was impossible for her, socially, with her husband's shop in Edward Street. Paul watched Edith bring her in. The girl was quiet and self-possessed, and did not, apparently, see him. She steered her mother to a little table and sat down by her. One of the Miss Cators, acting waitress, went up for the order. "Here's the tea," said Paul. "Sorry I was so long. You must want it." "I do. Oh, and you've got eclairs! How delicious; I love them." "I remembered that you did at the school-treat last August." "That terrible day! Do you remember how Mrs. Thornton would have lunch at our table? Look--there she is. I do hope she doesn't see you. She's sure to come over if she does. ''Ow do you do, Mr. Paul, and 'ow do you like Cambridge? We're glad to see you back, I'm sure.'" Paul sat down deliberately in such a position that he could see Edith. "Don't, Madeline," he said. "She's a thoroughly good sort really, and means well." "Paul, you know perfectly well you used to laugh at her as much as any of us." "Did I? Then I was wrong. I'm beginning to see that the world is full of queer sorts of people, and that the only real test is their sincerity." "Well, then, some sincere people are impossible. You know they are. At any rate I'm sincere enough to tell you that I think so." Ethel Cator came up to them. She was a brunette, tall and thin, and in a cap and apron she looked pretty. She was one of Madeline's friends. "Hullo, Madeline," she said. "How are you two getting on? Have some more tea?" "My dear, aren't you worn out with this tea business? Can't I give you a hand? It's a slack time at the stall." "Oh no. It's all right. But it's our busy time, of course. Have some more eclairs. We're running a bit short, but I can get some for you." "I couldn't. Really, I couldn't. Will you, Paul? I say, Ethel, are you going to the school dance? Grace said yesterday she didn't know what you had decided. Do come, my dear. I've said I'll go, and you must be there. I've positively got a new frock for it."