“Did Mr. Monk tell you that I played and sang?” she asked. “No, he did not. Indeed, Mr. Monk has told me nothing whatsoever about you. His, as you may have observed, is not a very communicative nature. The information came from a much less interesting, though, for aught I know, from a more impartial source—the fat page-boy, Thomas, who is first tenor in the Wesleyan chapel, and therefore imagines that he understands music.” “But how could Thomas——” began Morris, when his father cut him short and answered: “Oh, I’ll tell you, quite simply. I had it from the interesting youth’s own lips as he unpacked my clothes. It seems that the day before the news of your uncle’s death reached this place, Thomas was aroused from his slumbers by hearing what he was pleased to call ‘hangels a-’arping and singing.’ As soon as he convinced himself that he still lingered on the earth, drawn by the sweetness of the sounds, ‘just in his jacket and breeches,’ he followed them, until he was sure that they proceeded from your workshop, the chapel. “Now, as you know, on the upstair passage there still is that queer slit through which the old abbots used to watch the monks at their devotions. Finding the shutter unlocked, the astute Thomas followed their example, as well as he could, for he says there was no light in the chapel except that of the fire, by which presently he made out your figure, Miss Fregelius, sometimes playing the violin, and sometimes singing, and that of Morris—again I must quote—‘a-sitting in a chair by the fire with his ‘ands at the back of ‘is ‘ead, a-staring at the floor and rocking ‘imself as though he felt right down bad.’ No, don’t interrupt me, Morris; I must tell my story. It’s very amusing. “Well, Miss Fregelius, he says—and, mind you, this is a great compliment—that you sang and played till he felt as though he would cry when at last you sank down quite exhausted in a chair. Then, suddenly realising that he was very cold, and hearing the stable clock strike two, he went back to bed, and that’s the end of the tale. Now you will understand why I have asked you this favour. I don’t see why Morris and Thomas should keep it all to themselves.” “I shall be delighted,” answered Stella, who, although her cheeks were burning, and she knew that the merciless Colonel was taking note of the fact, on the whole had gone through the ordeal remarkably well. Then she left the room. As soon as the door closed Morris turned upon his father angrily.