Archdeacon Willcocks, on the other hand, reacted to the same stimulus in a different way. For him the fact that Mrs. Trupp was a Moray of Pole was paramount. And so--when Mr. Trupp had become famous--he hushed up his wife and schemed to run Mrs. Trupp's home in connection with the Diocesan Magdalen League. But Mrs. Trupp was not to be cajoled. She had her own way of doing things, and meant to stick to it. "I think perhaps we'd better go on working for the same end in our rather different ways," she told the Archdeacon with that disarming courtesy of hers. "Am I to understand that our way is not the Christian way?" asked the Archdeacon, smiling and satirical according to his wont, as he swayed his long thin body to and fro, serpent-wise. "It may be," replied the lady, faintly ironical in her turn. "It's not quite mine." "Pity," said the Archdeacon, mounting his favourite high horse with the little toss of his head, carefully cultivated, which so impressed the shop-keepers of Old Town. "I had hoped that you remained of the Faith, even if you have seen good to desert your Church." The lady looked at him with eyes that were a little wistful, a little whimsical. "I'm afraid we're mutually disappointed," she answered quietly. CHAPTER LII THE RETURN OF THE OUTCAST It was in Mrs. Trupp's home, in a back-water of the East-end, that Ruth's child was born. The babe was beautiful, but over the mother a shadow lay. "It's her people," Mr. Trupp told his wife. "She hasn't broken it to them yet." "I know," Mrs. Trupp answered. "I must talk to her about it." Ruth, curled in her bed, giving satisfaction to the babe in the hollow of her arm, showed every sign of distress when the other broached the topic. "Will you trust me to tell them?" asked the lady gently. Ruth raised her fine eyes, brimming with gratitude to the elder woman's face. Mrs. Trupp went. Before she started on her pilgrimage of love she passed an hour in the parish-church, which was her favourite resort in all the crises of her life. There the Archdeacon came on her, to his surprise. "I'm glad to see you here, Mrs. Trupp," he said with slight inevitable patronage. "I'm often here," she answered, smiling. "Ah," said the Archdeacon. "I've missed you." She could not tell him that this was because she avoided the church when he and his fellow-priests were ministering there. "I love the atmosphere," she said. "Thank-you. It is nice, I think," he answered with a little bow; taking to himself, with childish ingenuousness, the credit for the conditions that six centuries of prayer and worship had created. An hour later Mrs. Trupp was face to face with Ruth's mother in the kitchen of Frogs' Hall. Hard by, the church-bell tolled for evening service. Through the open window came the noise of homing rooks drifting up the valley from the Haven; and under the hedge on the far side the Brooks a cow bellowed. It was Mrs. Boam who began.