re's
a new preacher planned to the Bible Christians, down to Innis, an'
I'm goin' to help he. My dears, don't 'ee tell me the Lord didn'
know what He was about when He cast the _Garibaldi_ ashore!"

He left the Parsonage next day. "Ma'am," he said to Humility on
leaving, "I salute this here house. Peace be on this here house, for
it is worthy. He that receiveth a prophet in the name of a prophet
shall receive a prophet's reward."

Two mornings later, Taffy, looking out from his bedroom window soon
after daybreak, saw the prophet trudging along the road. He had a
clean white bag slung across his shoulder; it carried his soap and
razors, no doubt. And every now and then he waved his walking-stick
and skipped as he went.

[1] Loading vessels from the jetties.

CHAPTER X.

A HAPPY DAY.

A volley of sand darkened and shook the pane. Taffy, sponging
himself in his tub and singing between his gasps, looked up hastily,
then flung a big towel about him and ran to the window.

Honoria was standing below; and Comedy, her gray pony, with a creel
and a couple of fishing rods strapped to his canvas girth.

"Wake up! I've come to take you fishing."

Mr. Raymond had started off at daybreak to walk to Truro on business;
so there would be no lessons that morning, and Taffy had been looking
forward to a lonely whole holiday.

"I've brought two pasties," said Honoria, "and a bottle of milk.
We'll go over to George's country and catch trout. He is to meet us
at Vellingey Bridge. We arranged it all yesterday, only I kept it
for a surprise."

Taffy could have leapt for joy. "Go in and speak to mother," he
said; "she's in the kitchen."

Honoria hitched Comedy's bridle over the gate, walked up the barren
little garden, and knocked at the door. When Mrs. Raymond opened it
she held out a hand politely.

"How do you do?" she said, "I have come to ask if Taffy may go
fishing with me."

Except in church, and outside the porch for a formal word or two,
Humility and Honoria had never met. This was Honoria's first visit
to the Parsonage, and the sight of the clean kitchen and shining pots
and pans filled her with wonder. Humility shook hands and made a
silent note of the child's frock, which was torn and wanted brushing.

"He may go, and thank you. It's lonely for him here, very often."

"I suppose," said Honoria gravely, "I ought to have called before.
I wish--" She was about to say that she wished Humility