"Yes, I heard from mother so last week. She didn't know that I
knew you at Tunbridge Wells; but I wrote back at once, and I
said: 'Mr. Beebe is--'"

"Quite right," said the clergyman. "I move into the Rectory at
Summer Street next June. I am lucky to be appointed to such a
charming neighbourhood."

"Oh, how glad I am! The name of our house is Windy Corner." Mr.
Beebe bowed.

"There is mother and me generally, and my brother, though it's
not often we get him to ch-- The church is rather far
off, I mean."

"Lucy, dearest, let Mr. Beebe eat his dinner."

"I am eating it, thank you, and enjoying it."

He preferred to talk to Lucy, whose playing he remembered, rather
than to Miss Bartlett, who probably remembered his sermons. He
asked the girl whether she knew Florence well, and was informed
at some length that she had never been there before. It is
delightful to advise a newcomer, and he was first in the field.
"Don't neglect the country round," his advice concluded. "The
first fine afternoon drive up to Fiesole, and round by
Settignano, or something of that sort."

"No!" cried a voice from the top of the table. "Mr. Beebe, you
are wrong. The first fine afternoon your ladies must go to