very kind indeed," said Stella simply. "At present, I am
afraid, it is not much use calling upon my father, as he is in bed with
a broken thigh; also, we are not at the Rectory. Until he can be moved
we are only guests at the Abbey," and she looked at Morris, who added
rather grumpily, by way of explanation:

"Of course, Miss Layard, you have heard about the wreck of the
Trondhjem, and how those foreign sailors saw the light in my workshop
and brought Mr. Fregelius to the Abbey."

"Oh, yes, Mr. Monk, and how they left Miss Fregelius behind, and you
went to fetch her, and all sorts of strange things happened to you. We
think it quite wonderful and romantic. I am writing to dear Miss Porson
to tell her about it, because I am sure that you are too modest to sing
your own praises."

Morris grew angry. At the best of times he disliked Miss Layard. Now
he began to detest her, and to long for the presence of Mary, who
understood how to deal with that not too well-bred young person.

"You really needn't have troubled," he answered. "I have already
written."

"Then my epistle will prove a useful commentary. If I were engaged to a
modern hero I am sure I could not hear too much about him, and," fixing
her eyes upon the black silk fichu, "the heroine of the adventure."

Meanwhile, Stella was being engaged by the brother, who surveyed her
with pale, admiring eyes which did not confine their attentions to the
fichu.

"Monk is always an awfully lucky fellow," he said. "Just fancy his
getting the chance of doing all that, and finding you waiting on the
ship at the end of it," he added, with desperate and emphatic gallantry.
"There's to be a whole column about it in the 'Northwold Times'
to-morrow. I wish the thing had come my way, that's all."

"Unless you understand how to manage a boat in a heavy sea, and the
winds and tides of this coast thoroughly, I don't think that you should
wish that, Mr. Layard," said Stella.

"Why not?" he asked sharply. As a matter of fact the little man was a
miserable sailor and suspected her of poking fun at him.

"Because you would have been drowned, Mr. Layard, and lying at the
bottom of the North Sea among the dogfish and conger-eels this morning
instead of sitting comfortably in church."

Mr. Layard started and stared at her. Evidently this lady's imagination
was as vivid as it was suggestive.

"I say, Miss Fregelius," he said, "you don't put things very
pleasantly."

"No, I am afra