good many of us.”

“You’ll miss them,” said the Vicar, noticing the little tremble in her voice, as she spoke of home. “I am afraid it will be rather dull for you here at first. But you will make your own interests before long. Life has a knack of growing very interesting, you will find, wherever we are called upon to live it.”

Sydney had heard things like this in sermons before, but somehow the fact that this was said to her in the homely surroundings of a nursery made it strike her more. Certainly Mr. Seaton himself did not look like a man who found life uninteresting. She smiled and looked up frankly.

“They are all so kind,” she said, “and say, ‘Do what you like.’ But it doesn’t seem that there is anything to do.”

“Plenty,” said the Vicar briskly, “and you’ll find it if you look for it. I wonder[64] whether Lord St. Quentin would allow you to take a little class in the Sunday School, for one thing?”

[64]

“Oh, I should just love to!” Sydney cried. “Mother always said I might when I was eighteen, and my birthday is next month. Only I don’t know a great deal.”

She noticed that the Vicar did not comment upon her acceptance.

“Thank you very much for your willingness to help,” he said. “I will write to your cousin.”

“I am certain he won’t mind,” the girl said happily. “He is very kind, you know, and told Lady Frederica to put the loveliest things into my rooms. But, please, I think I ought to be going now, for Mr. Fenton has his breakfast at ten.”

The Vicar laughed. “I am afraid Mr. Fenton will have breakfasted alone this morning, owing to my little scamp here. Do you know what the time is?”

“No.” Sydney was rather frightened.

“Ten-thirty.”

She sprang up with a cry of dismay. “Oh, how dreadful! I must run!”

“You won’t do any such thing!” said the Vicar firmly. “I am going to drive you to[65] the Castle in my pony-cart, and explain your disappearance.”

[65]

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