“What is that?” said Kate, very much as if she were prepared to depreciate it before she knew what it was. “The new rector!” “He will make very little difference to us!” the girl answered, with an accent almost of scorn. “Papa said in his letter that he thought it was a great pity a local man had not been appointed—some one who knew the place and the old ways. You say he is clever and nice; but either way it will not affect us much.” No one noticed that the “Times” newspaper in the far corner of the compartment rustled suspiciously, and that the clerical boots became agitated on a sudden, as though their wearer meditated a move; and, in ignorance of this, “I expect I shall hate him!” said Daintry calmly. “Come, you must not do that,” Jack remonstrated “You must remember that he is not only a very good fellow, but a great friend of mine.” “Then we ought indeed to spare him!” Kate said frankly, “for you have been very good to us and made our visit delightful.” His face flushed with pleasure even at those simple words of praise. “And you will write and tell me,” he continued eagerly, “that you have reached your journey’s end safely.” “One of us will,” was the answer. “Daintry,” Kate went on calmly, “will you remind me to write to Jack to-morrow evening?” His face fell sadly. So little would have made him happy. He looked down and kicked the step of the carriage, and made his tiny moan to himself before he spoke again. “Good-bye,” he said then. “They are coming to look at your tickets. You are due out in one minute. Good-bye, Daintry.” “Good-bye, Jack. Come and see us soon,” she cried earnestly, as she released his hand. “Good-bye, Kate.” Alas! Kate’s cheek did not show the slightest consciousness that his clasp was more than cousinly. She uttered her “Good-bye, Jack, and thank you so much,” very kindly, but her color never varied by the quarter of a tone, and her grasp was as firm and as devoid of shyness as his own. He had not much time to be miserable, however, then, for, the ticket-collector coming to the window, Jack had to fall back, and in doing so made a discovery. Kate, hunting for her ticket in one of those mysterious places in which ladies will put tickets, heard him utter an exclamation, and asked, “What is it, Jack?” To her surprise, the collector having by this time disappeared, he stretched out his hand through the window to some one beyond her. “Why, Lindo!” he cried, “is that you? I had not a notion of your identity. Of course you are going down to take possession.” Kate, trembling already with a horrible presentiment, turned her head. Yes, it was the clergyman in the corner who answered Jack’s greeting and rose to shake hands with him, the train being already in motion. “I did not recognize your voice out there,” he said, looking rather hot.