have chosen?"

"I had thoughts of Alberic de Blanchminster, in an Episode of the
'Founding of St. Hospital.'"

"Alberic de Blanchminster?"

They had reached the outer court of the hospital, and Brother Copas,
halting to take snuff, eyed the Chaplain as if taking his measure.

"But the Committee, in compliment to my inches, are pressing me to
take William the Conqueror," said Mr. Colt almost bashfully.

"I, too, should advise it, if we are to adhere to history; though, to
be sure, from the sole mention of him in the chronicle, our founder
Alberic appears to have been a sportsman. '_ Nam, quodam die, quia
perdiderat accipitrem suum cum erat sub divo, detrexit sibi bracas et
posteriora nuda ostendit caelo in signum opprobrii et convitii atque
derisionis._'--You remember the passage?"

He paused mischievously, knowing well enough that the Chaplain would
laugh, pretending to have followed the Latin. Sure enough, Mr. Colt
laughed heartily.

"About William the Conqueror, though--"

But at this moment Corona came skipping through the archway.

"Uncle Copas!" she hailed, the vault echoing to her childish treble.
"You look as though you had mistaken Mr. Colt for a visitor, and were
telling him all about the history of the place. Oh! I know that you
never go the round with visitors; but seeing it's only me and Timmy--
look at him, please! He's been made a Beauchamp Brother, not half an
hour ago. If only you'd be guide to us for once, and make him _feel_
his privileges. . . . I dare say Mr. Colt won't mind coming too," she
wound up tactfully.

"Shall we?" suggested the Chaplain, after asking and receiving
permission to inspect the doll.

"Confound it!" muttered Brother Copas to himself. "I cannot even
begin to enjoy a fool nowadays but that blessed child happens along
to rebuke me."

Aloud he said--

"If you command, little one. . . . But where do we begin?"

"At the beginning." Corona took charge of him with a nod at the
Chaplain. "We're pilgrims, all four of us, home from the Holy Land;
and we start by knocking up Brother Manby and just perishing for a
drink."

CHAPTER XVIII.

THE PERVIGILIUM.

'Now learn ye to love who loved never--now
ye who have loved, love anew!
It is Spring, it is chorussing Spring: 'tis the
birthday of earth, and for you!
It is Spring; and the Loves and the birds
wing together, and woo to accord
Where the bough to the rain h