The days went pleasantly enough after that. She would not for an instant allow to herself that any of their smoothness arose from the fact that this boy would be here again in a few weeks. On the contrary, it was because she had detected a weakness in his regard, she told herself, and had resolutely stamped on it, that she was in so serene a peace. She arranged about the shooting--that is to say, she informed the acting keeper that Master Laurie would be home for Christmas as usual--all in an unemotional manner, and went about her various affairs without effort. She found Mrs. Baxter just a little trying now and then. That lady had come to the conclusion that Laurie was unhappy in his religion--certainly references to it had dropped out of his letters--and that Mr. Rymer must set it right. "The Vicar must dine here at least twice while Laurie is here," she observed at breakfast one morning. "He has a great influence with young men." Maggie reflected upon a remark or two, extremely unjust, made by Laurie with regard to the clergyman. "Do you think--do you think he understands Laurie," she said. "He has known him for fifteen years," remarked Mrs. Baxter. "Perhaps it's Laurie that doesn't understand him then," said Maggie tranquilly. "I daresay." "And--and what do you think Mr. Rymer will be able to do?" asked the girl. "Just settle the boy.... I don't think Laurie's very happy. Not that I would willingly disturb his mind again; I don't mean that, my dear. I quite understand that your religion is just the one for certain temperaments, and Laurie's is one of them; but a few helpful words sometimes--" Mrs. Baxter left it at an aposiopesis, a form of speech she was fond of. There was a grain of truth, Maggie thought, in the old lady's hints, and she helped herself in silence to marmalade. Laurie's letters, which she usually read, did not refer much to religion, or to the Brompton Oratory, as his custom had been at first. She tried to make up her mind that this was a healthy sign; that it showed that Laurie was settling down from that slight feverishness of zeal that seemed the inevitable atmosphere of most converts. Maggie found converts a little trying now and then; they would talk so much about facts, certainly undisputed, and for that very reason not to be talked about. Laurie had been a marked case, she remembered; he wouldn't let the thing alone, and his contempt of Anglican clergy, whom Maggie herself regarded with respect, was hard to understand. In fact she had remonstrated on the subject of the Vicar.... Maggie perceived that she was letting her thoughts run again on disputable lines; and she made a remark about the Balkan crisis so abruptly that Mrs. Baxter looked at her in bewilderment. "You do jump about so, my dear. We were speaking of Laurie, were we not?" "Yes," said Maggie. "It's the twentieth he's coming on, is it not?" "Yes," said Maggie. "I wonder what train he'll come by?" "I don't know," said Maggie.