As Joyce stood in the cathedral, not far from the north porch, her head raised towards the belfry-tower, which the great inverted arches support, a ray of sunshine entering at a window in the south transept touched her figure, and illuminated it with a subdued and chastened beauty. Her head was thrown back, and the high coal-scuttle or gipsy bonnet did not hide the sweet face, which, when she had walked demurely down the nave, had been hardly visible. The little quaint figure was motionless, and the old verger turned twice to look at it, with a strange and curious thrill of admiration. Presently the cloister door opposite opened, and the Dean's swift footsteps were heard approaching, with a regular pit-pat, on the floor of the nave. He, like the verger, was attracted by Joyce's attitude and the rapt expression on her fair face. "Why, it's Falconer's little girl!" he thought. "She is generally all smiles and sunshine; now she looks like a nun." As the Dean passed her, Joyce started. The brightest colour came to her face, and she turned hastily towards the north porch. The Dean, with old-fashioned and chivalrous courtesy, held the little door, which was cut out of the big one for ordinary use, to let her pass, and then he said: "Miss Falconer, I think. I hope your good father is well. Is he in Wells to-day?" "Yes, sir," Joyce replied, bright smiles rippling over her face. "Yes, sir; on magistrates' business." "Ah, ah! I heard there was some bad case brought in from Mendip. The good lady at Barley Wood will have to learn that much prating about religion ain't what we want. It's like the crackling of thorns under the pot. Let us see you at the Deanery before long; make my compliments to your good father and Mrs. Falconer." And then the Dean ambled away, his thin, black-stockinged legs beneath the decanal coat and apron giving him the appearance of a black stork. Joyce now hastened towards the Vicar's Close, where her aunt, her father's only sister, lived. The Vicar's Close at Wells is a sight to delight the heart of the antiquary and the lover of ancient buildings and olden times. It is entered from the north end of the cathedral by a wide, low gateway, and on either side of a fairly broad footway stands a row of small, picturesque houses with twisted chimneys and low doorways, round which the clematis and honeysuckle climb at their own sweet will. The Vicar's Close, at the further end, is closed in by a small chapel, which entirely blocks the entrance, for any but foot passengers, who obtain egress into the North Liberty by some uneven stone steps at the side of the chapel, leading into the road a few feet above the level of the Close.