All was well now and Miss Stiles completely satisfied. She admired the room and the Hermes, and prophesied that, after a week or two, they would probably find things not so bad after all. She drank several cups of tea and passed on to general conversation. It was obvious, very soon, that she was bursting with a piece of news. "I can see, Ellen," said Ronder, humorously observing her, "that you're longing to tell us something." "Well, it is interesting. What do you think? Falk Brandon has been sent down from Oxford for misbehaviour." "And who is Falk Brandon?" asked Ronder. "The Archdeacon's son. His only boy. I've told you about Archdeacon Brandon many times. He thinks he runs the town and has been terribly above himself for a long while. This will pull him down a little. I must say, although I don't want to be uncharitable, that I'm glad of it. It's too absurd the way that he's been having everything his own way here. All the Canons are over ninety and simply give in to him about everything." "When did this happen?" "Oh, it's only just happened. He arrived by your train. I saw young George Lascelles as I was on my way up to you. He met him at the station--Falk, I mean--and he didn't pretend to disguise it. George said 'Hullo, Brandon, what are you doing here?' and Falk said 'Oh, I've been sent down'--just like that. Didn't pretend to disguise it. He's always been as brazen as anything. He'll give his father a lot of trouble before he's done." "There's nothing very terrible," said Ronder, laughing, "in being sent down from Oxford. I've known plenty of good fellows who were." Miss Stiles looked annoyed. "Oh, but you don't know. It will be terrible for his father. He's the proudest man in England. Some people call it conceit, but, however that may be, he thinks there's nothing like his family. Even poor Mrs. Brandon he's proud of when she isn't there. It will be awful for him that every one should know." Ronder said nothing. "You know," said Miss Stiles, who felt that her news had fallen flat, "you'll have to fight him or give in to him. There's no other way here. I hope you'll fight him." "I?" said Ronder. "Why, I never fight anybody. I'm much too lazy." "Then you'll never be comfortable here, that's all. He can't bear being crossed. He must have his way about everything. If the Bishop weren't so old and the Dean so stupid.... What we want here is a little life in the place." "You needn't look to us for that, Ellen," said Ronder. "We've come here to rest----" "Peace, perfect peace...." "I don't believe you," said Miss Stiles, tossing her head. "I'd be disappointed to think it of you." Alice Ronder gave her nephew a curious look, half of amusement, half of expectation. "It's quite true, Ellen," she said. "Now, if you've finished your tea, come and look at the rest of the house." Chapter III One of Joan's Days