"This is it," said Mrs. Lewknor in her cool confident voice. "This yellow-washed one, the man said." "Yes," grunted Edward, once again relieved, and trotted off to the little cottage on the bank beside the willows. He went up the steps and knocked. Mrs. Lewknor loitered down to the stream. Ruth opened. Her visitor glanced at her through dim spectacles; and strength came to him. "Are you Ruth?" he asked. The young woman's face lit up. "Yes, sir," she said. "And I know who you are. I been hopin you might happen along. Come you in and sit down." The old man mopped his neck. "I mustn't," he said in tones that meant "I daren't," and continued hurriedly, "I should be getting back. I'm expected home. But I had to come and wish you well." He touched her arm tremulously. "Bless you, my dear!--He's a good lad, only weak." He lowered his voice. "Keep him on the curb a bit," he whispered hurriedly. "But not too much. That's where his mother made her mistake. Drove him away from her." Mrs. Lewknor, standing by a willow on the river-bank, saw the old man turn. Slowly she walked across the field to the cottage. The young woman in the door watched her with uncertain eyes that seemed to leap towards her and then retreat and leap again. "Is that.... That aren't Ern's mother?" she asked. The lady paused, her fine eyes dwelling on a distant roof. "No," said Mr. Caspar. "That's a friend." Mrs. Lewknor, who had the love of her race for beautiful things, allowed her eyes to rest on the noble creature in the door. "I know your Ernie though," she said charmingly. "He's a very old friend of mine." The two women exchanged friendly glances and a few words. Then Edward Caspar and his companion moved off into Parson's Tye. The church stood four-square on the mound above them, the red tiles of the roof peeping through the trees. "Shall we go in?" said Mrs. Lewknor. "Let's," replied the other. They sat together side by side in the aisle, amid the haunting memories of centuries. When they emerged the Man of Fear had given place once more to the Child of Faith. It was a very small party that started next day from Old Town for the wedding. Besides Mr. and Mrs. Trupp there were in the chocolate-bodied car Mr. and Mrs. Pigott. The great surgeon was at his surliest. Mrs. Pigott noted it at once, and of course must take advantage. "Do you like weddings, Mr. Trupp?" she asked brightly. "Call it a wedding!" growled the other. "I call it a funeral. It's the end of a good man. He'll go to pieces now he's got all he wants. No: if you want to get the most out of a man, keep him asking. Once he's sated he's done.... What does Mrs. Pigott say?" Mrs. Pigott said: "Bob the cherry near his lips, but don't let him gobble it." The young woman gave a bird-like toss of her head and threw a teasing glance at her husband. "Bob the cherry. That's it."