Her reserve, however, did not last. Once through the station gates, that free holiday feeling which we have all experienced on being set down in an unknown town, with no duty before us save to explore it, soon possessed her; while he wished nothing better than to play the showman—a part we love. The day was fine and bright, though cold. She had eyes for beauty and a soul for the past, and soon forgot herself; and he, piloting the sisters through Magdalen Walks, now strewn with leaves, or displaying with pride the staircase of Christ Church, the quaint library of Merton, or the ancient front of John’s, forgot himself also, and especially his new-born dignity, in which he had lived rather too much, perhaps, during the last three weeks. He showed himself in his true colors—the colors known to his intimate friends—and was so bright and cheery that Kate found herself talking to him in utter forgetfulness of his position and theirs. The girl frankly sighed when darkness fell and they had to go into the house, their curiosity still unsated. She thought it was all over. But, lo! there was a cheery fire awaiting them in the “house” room (he had looked in for a few minutes on their first arrival and given his orders), and before it a little table laid for three was sparkling with plate and glass. Nay, there were two cups of tea ready on a side-table, for it wanted an hour yet of dinnertime. Altogether, as Daintry naïvely told him, “even Jack could not have made it nicer for us.” “Jack is a favorite of yours?” he said, laughing. “I should think so!” Daintry answered, in wonder. “There is no one like Jack.” “After that I shall take myself off,” he replied. “I really want to call on a friend, Miss Bonamy. But if I may join you at dinner——” “Oh, do!” she said impulsively. Then, more shyly, she added, “We shall be very glad if you will, Mr. Lindo.” He felt singularly pleased with himself as he turned the windy corner of the Broad. It was pleasant to be in Oxford again, a beneficed clergyman. Pleasant to have such a future to look forward to, such a holiday moment to enjoy. Pleasant to anticipate the cheery meal and the girl’s smile, half shy, half grateful. And Kate?—she remained before the fire, saying little because Daintry’s tongue gave few openings, but thinking a good deal. Once she did speak. “It won’t last,” she said pettishly. “Why, Kate? Do you think he will be different at Claversham?” Daintry protested. “Of course he will!” She spoke with a little scorn in her voice, and that sort of decision which we use when we wish to crush down our own unwarranted hopes. “But he is nice,” Daintry persisted. “You do think so, Kate, don’t you?” “Oh, yes, he is very nice,” she said drily. “But he will be in the Hammond set at home, and we shall see nothing of him.”