Lady Elizabeth had gathered a house-party to see the afternoon’s manoeuvres and to remain for the dinner. The Bishop leaned back in his chair and folded his hands over his apron; his short, lean legs were stretched out comfortably—the Kerhills knew how to entertain the Church, he was convinced. Near him sat Sir John Applegate and Mrs. Chichester Chichester Jones. Close to a great bed of white pansies, with scarlet standard roses gleaming like sentinels over the delicate white blossoms, were Mabel, Diana, and Mr. Chiswick, the young ascetic curate. Henry, who was standing near Lady Elizabeth, kept his eyes moodily on the ground. Sir Charles, with a heavy shawl wrapped around him, was stretched out in a long basket-chair. The air was so still that the moving of a bird in its nest or the rustling of a leaf disturbed its silence. "God bless you, Tommy Atkins— Here’s a country’s ’ealth to you." The voice ceased. Sir John had been telling a story to Mrs. Jones of the mule who drew a pension from the American government. "Heard that story in America. Rather good, eh, Mrs. Hobart Chi—" ignominiously he stood stricken by the American name. The Bishop, seeing his bewilderment turned quickly and whispered the dreadful cognomen. As Sir John finished the broken sentence there was a quiet laugh. Henry leaned over his mother. "Mater," he said, "Don’t you think that Mrs. Hobart Chichester Chichester Jones would make a ripping match for Jim? I wish you’d try and make an opportunity to help it along." As he spoke he already saw the gold from the Battle Creek mines pouring into the coffers of the house of Kerhill. Lady Elizabeth looked up with sudden comprehension. The American was charming; her look reassured Henry. "Most assuredly. I’ll do what I can." From the drawing-room came the sound of music. An impromptu dance had been arranged by Diana for the young people, who were beginning to arrive. At a message from Bates she quietly went towards the open casement to meet her guests. Henry followed. As the others started to follow, Sir John and the Bishop held a whispered consultation. Then the Bishop, bursting with importance, turned to Sir John and said: "Shall we take the ladies into our confidence, Sir John?" "By all means, Bishop; yes, do." Mabel and Mrs. Jones joined in the supplication. "Kerhill’s brother officers," the Bishop began, "have purchased a very beautiful loving-cup in appreciation of his work for the fund, which we have arranged to present to-morrow afternoon to the Earl." "Oh, how charming, and what a delightful surprise!" Lady Elizabeth said. These moments of joy in Henry were rare events in her existence. "But," said Sadie Jones, "isn’t Captain James Wynnegate to get a loving-cup, too?" Sir John answered, "Oh, he’s only the secretary of the fund."