I did not hear her answer; but it was given in a displeased tone; and a minute afterwards she called her son sharply and said that they were waiting for him. But they all stayed in the churchyard for some minutes after that, and then I noticed that Mr. Rayner was still talking to Mrs. Reade, and that she seemed very much pleased and interested by what he was saying. I just heard her mention “the Bramleys” and “our branch” in her answers; so I guessed that they were what Mr. Rayner called “up the genealogical tree” together. This was to be a busy week in the parish. The school-treat, which had been put off this year, first on account of sickness in the village and then because of the wet weather, was now fixed to take place on Saturday; and the following day was to be the harvest festival. This was not a very great occasion with us, being signalized only by a special sermon, the harvest thanksgiving hymns--which would be rather inappropriate this year, as the farmers were grumbling more than usual at the damage done by the late heavy rains--and bunches of corn, which those same “thankful people” rather grudged us, in the church-windows and round the pulpit. The Misses Reade had undertaken most of the decoration of the church, as the Vicar’s wife had enough to do in preparing for the school-feast and accompanying sale. The next day Haidee and I took a longer walk than usual; and, when we returned, Jane met me with a mysterious air in the hall. “Oh, Miss Christie, young Mr. Reade called while you was out, and asked to see you! He said he had a message for you. And, when I said you was out and offered to give it you, he said he had better write it, as it was important. So he wrote a note for you; and please it wasn’t my fault, but Sarah got hold of it, and she took it to Mr. Rayner. I told her it was directed to you; but she wouldn’t take no notice.” I went upstairs very much annoyed by this fresh indignity offered me by that hateful Sarah, and hurt and sorry beside, for I was longing to know what the note said. As soon as I got into the dining-room, however, Mr. Rayner came up to me smiling, and put it into my hands. “Here is a _billet-doux_ which has been left for you, Miss Christie. Now whom do you expect one from?” “From nobody, Mr. Rayner,” said I, blushing very much. This was not a story, because I knew the letter could not be at all the sort of communication he implied, but would contain, probably, some formal message from Mrs. Maitland. I opened it at once to show that I did not think it of any consequence. It only said-- “Dear Miss Christie,--My sisters find there is so much to be done for the church that they are afraid they won’t be able to do it all. Would you be so very kind as to undertake part? If you would not mind, I will ride over with the work to-morrow after luncheon, about a quarter-past two. Yours sincerely, Laurence Reade.”