“I shall write at once to Alan and ask him to explain things precisely,” said the vicar, as he saw his guest at the door; “and keep up your heart my dear child. This trouble, like all troubles, is a blessing in disguise.” “It is a very good disguise, then” said Marie sadly, “no, don’t come with me,” she added when Mr. Fuller assumed his soft hat and took his stick. “I can get home by myself.” “No,” said the clergyman grimly, and took her arm, “after you have hinted about that Indian, I think it is just as well to see you safely into the hands of your servants.” “But you don’t think——” “I think that one should always be on the safe side, my dear. If this man wants the peacock, he may try and enter the house. If he does I am sorry for him, as Henny and Jenny are as strong as men. By the way where is that wretched bird, which has caused so much trouble?” “I don’t know,” sighed Marie, as they walked through the village, “uncle took it away with him I think, although he has left his gems.” “I should think if Sorley clears his name he will have had enough of gems for the rest of his life,” remarked Mr. Fuller rebukingly, but as Marie did not answer, and he did not wish to cause her pain, he said no more. They passed through Belstone, and into the park, and Marie said good-bye to the vicar when Henny with a noisy joy received her at the door. Mr. Fuller was now at ease in his mind, as he knew how devoted the Dutch dolls were, and returned home wondering how these crooked things would straighten out. Granny and the two servants were overcome with delight when their young mistress was within doors, for they had troubled considerably over her visit to London. Marie laughed them out of their fears and assured them that she was quite able to look after herself. They asked after Mr. Sorley, who was no great favorite with the three, but of course Marie, ignorant of what had taken place at Miss Grison’s, could give them no information. In her opinion Uncle Ran had gone abroad, and would wait there until his innocence could be proved. “Well, my dear Miss Marie,” said granny polishing her spectacles. “God forbid as I should say what I shouldn’t say, but there’s no doubt as Mr. Sorley ain’t the proper person to be your guardian, my dear. He’s took your money and kept you short and mewed you up here like a nun, to say nothing of having behaved very badly to that poor Miss Grison, not that I’m fond of her myself.” “Did Uncle Ran ever care for her?” asked Miss Inderwick anxiously. “Well he did and he didn’t. She was pretty, in a light-haired skimpy way, I don’t deny, and I thought as he loved her; and then—but it’s too long a story, Miss Marie. I’ll tell it you to-morrow when you are rested. Let us hope that Mr. Sorley won’t be hanged, which would be a sore disgrace to the family, and that you’ll marry Master Alan, who is just the kind-hearted gentleman to look after your interests properly.”