me you trotted to bed too."

He moved round to the back of the settle and paused, looking down at the
thick white hair with a curious expression of hesitancy in his eyes.

"Oh, go on! Go on!" said Sir Beverley irritably. "What are you
waiting for?"

Piers stooped impulsively in response, his hand on the old man's
shoulder, and kissed him on the forehead.

"Good-night, sir!" he said softly.

The action was purely boyish. It pleaded for tolerance. Sir Beverley
jerked his head impatiently, but he did not repulse him.

"There! Be off with you!" he said. "Go to bed and behave yourself!
Good-night, you scamp! Good-night!"

And Piers went from him lightfooted, a smile upon his lips. He knew that
his tacit overture for peace had been accepted for the time at least.

CHAPTER XIII

THE VISION

It was growing very dark in the little church, almost too dark to see the
carving of the choir-stalls, and Avery gave a short sigh of weariness.

She had so nearly finished her task that she had sent the children in to
prepare for tea, declaring that she would follow them in five minutes,
and then just at the last a whole mass of ivy and holly, upon which the
boys had been at work, had slipped and strewn the chancel-floor. She was
the only one left in the church, and it behooved her to remove the
litter. It had been a hard day, and she was frankly tired of the very
sight and smell of the evergreens.

There was no help for it, however. The chancel must be made tidy before
she could go, and she went to the cupboard under the belfry for the
dustpan and brush which the sexton's wife kept there. She found a candle
also, and thus armed she returned to the scene of her labours at the
other end of the dim little church. She tried to put her customary energy
into the task, but it would not rise to the occasion, and after a few
strenuous seconds she paused to rest.

It was very still and peaceful, and she was glad of the solitude. All day
long she had felt the need of it; and all day long it had been denied
her. She had been decorating under Miss Whalley's superintendence, and
the task had been no light one. Save for the fact that she had gone in
Mrs. Lorimer's stead, she had scarcely undertaken it. For Miss Whalley
was as exacting as though the church were her own private property. She
deferred to the Vicar alone, and he was more than willing to leave the
matter in her hands. "My capable assistant" was his pet name for this
for