When the service was half over there was a sound of feet and voice's in one of the side aisles, and the Dean, who was in his stall, looked sharply round. The verger hobbled out to see what his coadjutor outside the choir could be about, to allow such a disturbance. The verger was sound asleep, with his chin upon his capacious breast, and quite unconscious of the presence of the two young gentlemen who were chatting and laughing with each other, in the south transept. The verger stumped after them, vainly endeavouring to rouse his heavy friend, and said: "There's service going on; you mustn't make a disturbance, gentlemen; it's contrary to the Dean's wishes." The elder of the two men answered with a laugh, but the younger said: "Be quiet, Falconer. Don't you hear they are reading prayers?" "Well, I am neither reading them nor saying them," was the answer. "I had enough of that at Pembroke. Now, old fellow, keep a civil tongue in your head, will you?" as the verger, angry at the contemptuous disregard of his commands, said: "I'll turn you out, if you don't go peaceably." Again another laugh; and the fat verger, who had now recovered from his heavy afternoon nap, came bearing down on the young men. "You'll walk out this instant," he said, raising his staff of office. "I wonder you ain't ashamed of yourself." "No, my good man; on the contrary, I am proud of myself." "Proud! Yes, a popinjay like you is proud enough, I'll warrant," murmured the other verger. "Can we get into the choir, Arundel?" "We had better wait here," was the answer. "The service is nearly over. Come this way into the cloisters. Don't be aggressive, Falconer, and make a row." "I hate rows as much as you do," was the answer; "but I am not inclined to knock under, to this pair of drivelling old idiots." I cannot say how this unseemly wrangle might have ended had not the verger in charge of the Dean heard the blowing of the organ pipes, which was a warning that he was to hasten to perform his office, and conduct the Dean back to the Deanery. Almost immediately the organ sounded, and those who had taken part in the service came out. Joyce and Charlotte were amongst the last of the very scanty congregation. Melville, for reasons of his own, did not care to introduce his friend at that moment, and Mr. Arundel was quite unconscious that the fair face of which he caught sight, from under the shadow of the large bonnet, was that of Melville's sister. "What a sweet face!" he thought; and then, as Joyce turned suddenly towards the spot by the font where the two gentlemen were standing, a bright blush and smile, made her look irresistibly lovely. "Who is that young lady, Melville? She knows you." For Joyce had made a step forward, and then apparently changed her mind and went towards the north door with Charlotte.