t."

"Ah, you are right there," and Elizabeth's voice was a little sad.

"Don't you remember what Clough says?" continued Malcolm quietly:

'The work-day burden of dull life
About the footsore flags of a weary world.'

We all have our pedlar's pack to carry through Vanity Fair; but how
good for us to turn aside into some of Nature's holy places which she
keeps so fair and sweet and untainted, and to take a long draught of
the elixir of life!"

"Mr. Herrick, do you ever write poetry?" Malcolm shook his head.

"No," he said regretfully. "One day, if you care to hear it, I will
tell you the story of an impotent genius."

"An impotent genius?" It was evident that Elizabeth was puzzled, but
then she had only known Malcolm Herrick five days.

Malcolm nodded gravely. "The story of a man who was halt and maimed and
crippled from his birth--a tongue-tied poet and a paralysed artist. The
story is a sad one, Miss Templeton, but it will keep."

Elizabeth's eyes danced with amusement. She began to have an idea of
his meaning.

"I rather think you are a humourist, Mr. Herrick." And then Malcolm
laughed, and after that they fell into quite an interesting
conversation. Elizabeth turned the subject to her own ignorance, and
begged Malcolm to tell her what books she ought to read.

"Dinah puts me to shame," she observed frankly. "She reads all the best
books, and she often tries to persuade me to follow her example. The
fact is, I am rather a desultory sort of person, and I have so many
interesting occupations that I never know what to do first."

"One must always have a little method in one's daily life," returned
Malcolm indulgently. "How would you like me to make you out a list? You
might slip any books you did not want to read."

Then Elizabeth thanked him quite gratefully.

"I mean to turn over a new leaf on my thirty-first birthday," she
continued serenely. "Isn't it a great age, Mr. Herrick?"

But Malcolm only smiled in answer. He was thinking how strange it
seemed that she was actually his senior by two years; but he soon
grasped the idea that Elizabeth Templeton was one of those women who
grow old slowly, and who are sweetest in their ripened prime.

The evening at the vicarage passed very pleasantly, and when Malcolm
took his leave he was much surprised at the lateness of the hour, and
sorely disturbed when he found Dinah sitting up for him. But she would
not listen to his excuses.

"An hour later