The Graftons were coming across the wide lawn. They were indeed pleasant-looking objects of the countryside, Grafton in his smart-looking blue flannel suit, the girls in their pretty summer frocks. Presently they were all chatting and laughing over the tea table, and the Bishop was liking them more than ever for the friendly way in which they treated him, and the absence from their demeanour of that paralysing awe which so often irked him on similar occasions. Tea was over, and Grafton had just introduced the subject about which he had come, when a tall clerical figure was seen advancing across the lawn. "There's my friend Leadbetter come to see me," said the Bishop. "Do you mind talking over the question before him? He has been in the Diocese much longer than I have, and might be able to help us." "I don't mind a bit," said Grafton, "but I don't know Mr. Leadbetter yet. I haven't had time to call on him." The introductions were made. Mr. Leadbetter seemed rather vague as to who the Graftons were; but he seemed to be rather vague about everything except the absorbing subject of Church music. He was a tall thin man, with a pair of short-sighted eyes that peered mildly through big spectacles. His new parishioners had not quite made up their minds what to make of him yet, but those who had had anything to do with him had found him thoughtful and friendly, and were inclined to accept him as an adequate substitute for the old Rector who had lived among them for so long, and whose ways they had known so well. "We were just beginning to talk about a new Vicar for Abington," said the Bishop, when Mr. Leadbetter had settled in a chair and had accepted a cigarette, which he afterwards surreptitiously got rid of when it had gone out three times, and both ends were in a shockingly untidy state. "Ah, yes, Abington," he said, "I called at Abington Vicarage the other day. I remember that the note of the doorscraper was C sharp. Mercer is going, he told me. A very agreeable man--Mercer. You will be sorry to lose him, Mr. Grafton." Beatrix caught the Bishop's eye. There was a twinkle in it which made her want to kiss him. She refrained from this exhibition, but felt she had found a true friend. "I know who you are, now, of course," said Mr. Leadbetter. "I remember that Mercer mentioned your name when he came over to ask me if I thought there was any chance of his being preferred to this living." There was a short pause, and then everybody, including the Bishop, laughed. Mr. Leadbetter looked surprised for a moment, and then smiled deprecatingly. "Now I remember," he said, "perhaps you won't be sorry to lose him, after all." This was all that was said about the retiring Vicar of Abington.