It seemed fateful, the arrival of this letter on top of the doubts of last night. A day was not long in which to make up his mind. And yet, after all, a moment was enough. He ought to go; he ought to telegraph immediately before he could vacillate; he must not see Pauline first; he ought to accept this offer. Farewell, fame! Guy opened the front door and walked into Birdwood come with a note from the Rectory. "Miss Pauline took me away from my work to give you this most particular and important and wait for the answer," said the gardener. Guy asked him to step inside and see Miss Peasey while he went up-stairs to write the reply. "Miss Peasey doesn't think much of your variety, Birdwood. She says the garden is entirely blue." "What, all those dellyphiniums the Rector raised with his own hand and she don't like blue!" Birdwood shook his head to express another defeat at the hands of incomprehensible woman. A moment later, as Guy went up to his room with Pauline's note, he heard him bellow in the kitchen: "What's this I hear, mum, about the garden being too blue?" Then Guy closed the door of the library and shut out everything but the sound of the stream. MY DARLING,--I've got such exciting news. Mr. Delamere who's a friend of ours has asked us to stay in his barge--I mean he's lent us the barge for us to stay in. It's called the Naiad and it's on the Thames at Ladingford and when we've finished with it we're going to have it towed down to Oxford and come back from there by train. Mother asked if you would like to come and stay with us for a fortnight. Think of it, a fortnight! Margaret is coming and Monica is going to stay with Father, who can't leave the garden. Oh, Guy, I'm wild with happiness! We're to start on the first of July about. Do send me a little note by Birdwood. Of course I know there's no need. But I would love to have a little note especially as we sha'n't see each other till after lunch. Your own adoring PAULINE. Guy wrote the little note to Pauline, and to his father he wrote a long letter explaining that it was impossible to give up what he was doing to be a schoolmaster. It was peerless weather when they set out in Godbold's wagonette on the nine miles to Ladingford. Guy was thrilled to be traveling like this with Mrs. Grey, Margaret, and Pauline. The girls were in flowered muslin dresses, seeming more airy than he had ever thought them; and the luggage piled up beside Godbold had the same exquisite lightness, so that it appeared less like luggage than a store of birds' feathers. The thought of nearly having missed this summery pilgrimage made Guy catch his breath.