While searching for a suitable instructor she happened to see Considine's advertisement. The fact that he gave the name of a great landowner, Lord Halberton, as a reference, convinced her that the opportunity was genuine, and the prospectus promised instruction in all the subjects that would be most useful to Arthur. The fact that only a small number of pupils was to be taken, and that the place should be regarded as a friendly country-house rather than as a school, attracted her; but the part of the advertisement that finally persuaded her to a faint glimmer of hope was Considine's artfully worded final paragraph: "Special care is given to backward or difficult pupils." Like all sufferers from incurable diseases she was only too ready to place confidence in any person who laid claim to special knowledge. She began to wonder if Considine was such a specialist. She wrote to him, looking for a miracle to save her from her afflictions. Considine replied formally. He did not jump at the idea of taking Arthur, a fact which convinced her that education at Lapton Manor was something of a privilege, and this made her disregard the fact that the privilege was expensive. Still, his note was direct and business-like. He made it clear that if he were willing to take backward or difficult boys he expected to be paid a little more for his trouble, but the confident tone in which he wrote suggested that he was a man who knew his business. He did know his business. Considine was a clear-headed and capable person with a degree of confidence in himself that went a long way towards assuring his success. He proposed, finally, that it would be more satisfactory for both of them if Mrs. Payne were to visit him at Lapton and see the place and its owners for herself. Then they could talk the matter over, and define the peculiar difficulties of Arthur's case. More and more impressed, she accepted the proposal. Considine met her train at Totnes with a dogcart and drove her to Lapton Manor. XII In that part of the world the early autumn is the most lovely season of the year. The country in its variety and sudden violences of shape and colour seemed to her sensationally lovely after the mild beauty of her own midland landscape, dominated and restrained by the level skylines of Cotswold. Considine, who spoke very little as he drove, but was a stylish whip, told her the names of the villages through which they passed, names that were as soft and sleepy as Lapton Huish itself. He showed her his church, with a flicker of pride, and the hung slates of the Rectory wall through a gap in the green. Then they passed into the open drive of Lapton Manor.