"There's a Lisping for that Lilith of yours for next week," he said. "'The floor of a parish church dug up by pious vicar.' Such a thing has never been heard of before." "Jimmy," she whispered, "do you think---- I've heard that the clergy are often buried in the chancels of churches, and he does have a trying time sometimes with Aunt Agatha? Do you think he can be digging his own grave? Oh!" The exclamation was forced from her by the fact that the vicar, startled by some sound, suddenly stood upright and stared at her. Beth's nerves had already been shaken by the noises and the falling stones in the cave. It was small wonder that the sudden rising of her uncle from what looked like a grave startled her afresh. The vicar was nearly as frightened as she was. A face appearing at a church window high up in the walls of a chancel is scarcely likely to belong to a human being. In all probability it is an angel, and though we respect angels and like to sing hymns about them we do not want to come into personal contact with one. Their portraits are all very well and can be comfortably admired when painted on the glass of church windows. The actual face pressed against the glass outside is not such a pleasant thing to see. Mr. Eames recovered his self-possession before Beth regained hers. He recognised his niece, and having recognised her was embarrassed rather than frightened. "My dear Beth," he shouted, for it is necessary to shout if conversation is to be carried on through a stained glass window. "I didn't expect to meet you here, but I'm very glad, very glad indeed to see you. I'll come out to you and then we can both go down to the vicarage for tea. You're sure to want tea. I know I do. To tell you the truth I forgot to bring up any sandwiches to-day, so I've had no lunch." He rubbed a little of the clay off his hands, laid the floor boards of the pew over the hole and replaced the carpet. Then he unlocked the south door of the church and greeted Beth. She introduced Jimmy. The Vicar looked first at one and then at the other with a whimsical little smile. "You young people have caught me," he said. "But I hope----it's rather a humiliating request to make but I hope that you won't find it necessary to tell anyone what I was doing." "As if we would, Uncle Timothy," said Beth. "Especially Aunt Agatha." "Yes, yes, especially your aunt. Of course I'm going to tell her all about it in the end. But the fact is---- You know, my dear Beth, how your aunt is always telling me that I ought to do something for the parish." "Poor Uncle Timothy!" said Beth. "She's quite right," said Mr. Eames mildly. "I've always admitted that she's quite right. A man ought not to live without doing something." "That's exactly what Beth says to me," said Jimmy, "and she's quite right, too."