It was an intense delight to show Fay Wildacre the house that was so dear to me. At the time I wondered that so apparently small a thing should afford such an infinity of pleasure; but later on I understood the reason why. On we went through the old rooms and along the old corridors, Fay enlivening the way with her deliciously naïve conversation and comments, which--though always charming to me--I was sometimes relieved that Annabel could not hear. I was fast coming to the conclusion that Fay would have to be Bowdlerized for Annabel, and that the work of Bowdlerization would fall upon me. And to Bowdlerize one human being for another is a terrible task for any man, more especially if the two people happen to be women, and most especially if they happen to be women both dear to him. Finally we came to the nursery, where Ponty sat in state. "This is my old nurse," I said, introducing the curtsying Ponty to Fay, "and this, Ponty, is Miss Wildacre, who has come to live at the Rectory." "How do you do?" said Fay, shaking hands in that charming manner of hers which combined the candour of a child with the dignity of a princess, and the smile which accompanied her words went straight to Ponty's faithful old heart, and never came out again any more for ever. "Sir Reginald has been showing me all over the house, and kept his old nursery as the nicest bit of all to come at the end." "And Master Reggie was quite right, miss," replied Ponty; "for sure and certain no children ever had a cosier nursery than he and Miss Annabel had here: so warm and light and airy, that it's no wonder they grew into such a fine pair." "Oh, I expect they owe their fineness to their nurse rather than to their nursery," said Fay, with her ready tact; "they grew so tall because you took such good care of them. I dare say if they hadn't had you for a nurse they'd have been no bigger than my brother and me." "Mr Wildacre is small, I admit, miss; but you're quite a good height, though so thin. However, I doubt the Restham air will soon put that to rights. I remember when I was a child there was a girl came to Poppenhall--Poppenhall being my old home in the Midlands--so thin and delicate-looking that you could see through her, as the saying is, she having been brought up in London, where the air is half smoke and the milk is half water. And by the time she'd been at Poppenhall three months--being out-of-doors and milk warm from the cows three times a day--she was that stout that she broke the springs of my grandfather's gig when he took her back to the station in it." Fay nodded her head in the engaging little way that she shared with her brother. "I dare say Restham will have a similar effect on me, and that when I leave I shall have to be drawn out of the place by a traction-engine." Ponty beamed. "I see you're like Mr. Wildacre, miss, always ready for a bit of fun."