“And Fifi is just as patriotic,” said the old priest laughing, “he will pipe two lines of _Partant pour la Syrie_, I am taking him to cheer up one of my parishioners who is lying ill at Lyons. He will think Fifi from the Presbytère almost as good as one of his own friends from the village. And when the lad is better why he will bring back this winged missionary to me. My old housekeeper would not hear of parting with Fifi altogether, he is the life of the house she says.” The bird growing now more accustomed to its strange surroundings piped cheerfully the familiar air of the refrain “Amour a la plus belle Honneur au plus vaillant.” “Ah! he sings better than ours ever did,” said Evereld thinking of the bird Ralph had brought from Whinhaven. “And he is more tractable than a choir boy,” said the old priest laughing. “Does he sing too loud and tire one’s head--it is but to cover his cage and he is as quiet as any mouse.” After that they drifted into talk about life in rural France, and by the time they reached Lyons Evereld felt that the old man had become quite a friend. The other passengers scrambled out of the carriage each intent on his own affairs, but the priest helped her courteously with her roll of cloaks. “Would you mind telling me what is the best and most quiet hotel to go to?” she asked. “I cannot get on any further till nine o’clock to-morrow morning. I am on my way to stay with friends near Clermont-Ferrand.” “You are over young my child,” he said, “to travel unprotected. But I know it is not in England as with us, the young _demoiselles_ have greater liberty. The best plan will be for you to go to an Hotel close by. As it happens I know the manager and his wife and if you will permit me I will walk with you to the door, and ask them to take good care of you. I think you are like Fifi, not over well-accustomed to travelling.” “Thank you very much,” said Evereld gratefully. “Now I shall feel safe indeed.” The old priest piloted her across the crowded platform and having given her luggage to the hotel porter himself took her to the Manager’s little office where Madame, a comely and pleasant looking woman, sat at her desk busily casting up accounts. Her face lighted up at sight of the old man. “A thousand welcomes Father Nicolas, it is long since you paid us a visit.” “You are well,” said the old priest, “I need not ask that, for it is easily to be seen, and busy as usual. Is your husband in?” “He will be desolated, but he has gone to his Club.” “Ah, well, I will call and see him to-morrow. In the meantime will you kindly do your utmost to make this young English lady feel at home and comfortable. She is unable to travel further till the 8.59 to-morrow morning. I leave you in good hands,” he said, taking kindly leave of Evereld, “Madame has a great reputation for taking good care of her guests.”