"You spoke of enlarging the churchyard," said Guy, suddenly, "if we--if my brother gave the ground. Couldn't the wall come down, and the last squire's grave be included? He could be forgiven now, couldn't he?" "Surely," said the vicar. "If the ground were given, it could be done easily." "Of course," said Godfrey, briefly. "What else ought we to do?" Then the vicar unfolded his cherished scheme. The lease was just out of the Dragon, "that rowdy little public in Flete Dale, a curse to the place in every way, and the centre of mischief." If Mr Waynflete would refuse to renew the lease--that was the place he should like for club, coffee-tavern, everything; several rooms--one large--the lads, unluckily, used to going there. "We should turn the devil's flank on his own ground." As the young clergyman expounded the details of the newest and most up-to-date recipe for social, moral, and religious improvement, Guy moved the hand with which--it was a trick he had--he was shading his eyes, and looked him full in the face with such a gaze as brought him suddenly to a dead stop, a look of awe, inspiration, and resolute daring beyond description. "That's right. That shall be done!" he said. "That _will_ turn the devil's flank!" Mr Clifton believed quite orthodoxly in the devil; but he had used his name at the moment more or less metaphorically. He felt as he looked at Guy, as he had never felt before, that "improving" his parish meant literally dragging it away from the power of evil. "The place won't answer in that depressing hole," said Godfrey. "It gives one the shivers to think of it." "It'll answer, if we're not afraid," said Guy. It was not surprising, on any grounds, that he had a bad fit of palpitation and faintness that night, after the long discussion was over. "I must lie still," he said in the morning; "but bring Clifton here before he goes. I want to speak to him." "I am afraid I over-tired you last night," said the vicar, penitently, when he obeyed this summons. Guy was lying back on his pillows, with the winter morning sun shining through his unshaded window, full on his hair and face. "Thanks--it couldn't possibly be helped," he said. "It doesn't matter. You're quite right about the Dragon. Don't give the notion up. You know we have neither of us much money, but we'll help. And you're right about the subscription. Every one that lends a hand brings more force to help." "We must give a long pull and a strong pull and a pull all together," said the vicar, cheerily. "Yes," said Guy, with a vivid smile. "Now I understand that. And when we have won, you could paint in Michael above the Dragon, beating him down under his feet." "Surely, most appropriate in Saint Michael's parish. Oh, I felt very much out of heart before; but you have greatly encouraged me, and I hope and pray that we may make some way now." "Pray?" said Guy. "Yes. That's a very hard thing to do; but it makes a great difference."