"You're sure? I should be out most of my time at the blessed works, you
know. Could I bring my horse?"

"Certainly bring your horse."

"That reminds me of one reasonable thing Dan's going to do," ran on
the other. "He's going to clear me. I told Aunt Jenny it was no good
beginning a new life with a millstone of debts round my neck--in fact we
came down to that. I said it was a vital condition. Aunt Jenny had
rather a lively time between us. She sympathises with me tremendously,
however, and finally got Daniel to promise he would pay off every penny
I owed--a paltry two hundred or so."

"A very sporting arrangement. Make the coffee, Estelle, then we'll take
a walk on the downs."

"I'm going to Uncle Ernest to tea," explained Raymond. "I shall tell him
then that I'm not coming to him, thanks to your great kindness."

"He will be disappointed," declared Estelle. "It seems rather hard of
us to take you away from him, I'm afraid."

"Don't you worry, kiddy. He'll get over it. In fact he'll be jolly
thankful, poor old bird. He only did it because he thought he ought to.
It's the old, traditional attitude of the Churchouses to the Ironsydes."

"He's very wise about church bells, but he's rather vague about
flowers," replied Estelle. "He's only interested in dead things,
I think; and things that happened long, long ago."