The Dean was popular in the county. When Mr. Pelham came into the Deanery garden somewhat late, he found Mrs. Bethune's chair under the chestnut trees, a centre of laughter and conversation. Marjorie was standing by her mother, with a wistful look on her face, he thought at first sight, wondering at its expression. Love, when presented first to a girl brought up as Marjorie had been, comes as a great shock. That it should be Mr. Warde of all men who should cause her this disquiet filled Marjorie with a sense of the unsatisfactoriness of the world. It disturbed things that had seemed to her as settled as the hills round Norham that this old friend should want to be her lover. Before going to the Deanery she had sent a little note in answer to his letter, in which she had said-- "There is nothing to forgive. But you must not think of me like this any more. You have always been so kind to all of us that it grieves me to say 'No' to anything you want. Still, it must be 'No.'" She hoped he would not be present at the Deanery. It was his turn of duty at the cathedral. She would bring her mother away early, before he arrived. The afternoon was quite spoilt for her. And then Mr. Pelham had come up, and she had introduced him to her mother with a tremulousness and agitation quite unlike her usual serenity. "You have been very good to my boys," Mrs. Bethune said gratefully. "Your boys have been very good to my little girl," he answered, admiring the delicate beauty of the face, scarcely looking older than the unquiet one of the tall daughter beside her. "They're very enterprising," their mother said. "I hope she will not come to any harm with them. They're apt to give us surprises." "I wonder if you will give me some advice about her," he went on, drawn by some magic in the dark eyes to appeal to their owner for sympathy, "if I may consult you. It is about clothes," he said, smiling. "My nurse is kind and careful, but surely a baby in the country does not really need expensive dresses from a Regent Street outfitter. I should be so grateful if you would tell me where you get those pretty things your little boys always look so nice in." "Even when they are grubby?" laughed the mother. "I do not know where they could be bought. My nurse, and Marjorie, and I make them." "Then, if you do, surely my nurse ought to have time. I do not like my baby's over-dressed look; at least, white satin seems to be out of keeping with mud-pies and digging. She is great on digging just now." "Quite so," said Mrs. Bethune. "If you will send your nurse down to see me, I will have a talk with her." The Duchess of Norham, a very great person indeed now came up to greet Mrs. Bethune. She was not one who troubled about dress. To-day, in her grey silk, and round hat, she was the most plainly dressed woman on the Deanery lawn. Charity, by her side, was an effective contrast, in soft, shimmering pink.