After this the company repaired to the drawing-room, where Mr Pratt told stories until quite a late hour for Colester. Never had there been so agreeable a host in the dull little provincial town, and one and all confessed themselves charmed with their evening. "Quite an acquisition," repeated Mrs Bathurst as she departed. "Mind you come and see me, Mr Pratt. Peggy will never forgive you if you do not." A foolish speech which sent poor Peggy away covered with blushes. But then Mrs Bathurst's zeal always outran her discretion. As Mr Pratt stood at his door waving a hearty good-bye to his guests, he saw that Hale was beside Leo and overheard a remark. "Come and see me in three days, Leo," the baronet was saying. "I want to speak to you most particularly." "Most particularly," echoed Pratt, thoughtfully. "Humph! What's up now?" CHAPTER V LOVE'S YOUNG DREAM The Colester folk were certainly pleased that Mr Pratt had adorned their beloved chapel with so magnificent a gift. They unbent so far as to smile when they curtsied or touched their hats, but did not take him to their bosoms. However, Pratt saw that he had made a step forward in their affections, and professed himself well pleased. "Rome was not built in a day," said he, philosophically. Mr Tempest installed the cup on the altar, where it glittered in front of the crucifix. It was an object of wonder and reverence to the simple villagers, and the vicar himself was no less pleased. Its weight, the beauty of the workmanship, and the splendour of the jewels, filled him with joy, and he came to regard the pagan vessel--as it undoubtedly was--as a kind of Holy Grail. Having made some such reference to it, the sexton Baker, an inquisitive octogenarian, wanted to know what the Holy Grail was. Forthwith Mr Tempest prepared a lecture, compounded of Mallory's prose work and Tennyson's poetical interpretation. This he delivered in the village schoolroom, and had the sacred cup placed on the table before him, so that his hearers might have the significance of the gift borne home to them. Pearl heard the lecture, and so much of it as her poor wits took in led her to look upon the cup as the very vessel itself mentioned in the poem. To Pearl the Pagan cup, as Frank Hale called it, was the veritable vessel from which the Master had drunk at that last sad feast. And no argument could shake this belief when she once got it into her head.