“But the children were all counting on going to Stanbury Cliffs for the Easter holidays,” protested Mrs. Lorimer almost tearfully.  “We cannot disappoint them, Stephen!” Mr. Lorimer’s lips closed very firmly for a few seconds.  Then, “The change home will be quite sufficient for them,” he said.  “I have given the matter my full consideration, my dear Adelaide, and no argument of yours will now move me.  Mrs. Denys and Jeanie have been away for a month, and they must now return.  It is your turn for a change, and as soon as Eastertide is over I intend to take you away with me for ten days or so and leave Mrs. Denys in charge of—­the bear-garden, as I fear it but too truly resembles.  You are quite unfit for the noise and racket of the holidays.  And I myself have been feeling lately the need of a little—­shall I call it recreation?” Mr. Lorimer smiled self-indulgently over the term.  He liked to play with words.  “I presume you have no vital objection to accompanying me?”

“Oh, of course not.  I should like it above all things,” Mrs. Lorimer hastened to assure him, “if it were not for Jeanie.  I don’t like the thought of bringing her home just when her visit is beginning to do her so much good.”

“She cannot remain away for ever,” said Mr. Lorimer.  “Moreover, her delicacy must have been considerably exaggerated, or such a sudden improvement could scarcely have taken place.  At all events, so it appears to me.  She must therefore return home and spend the holidays in wholesome amusements with the other children; and when they are over, I really must turn my serious attention to her education which has been so sadly neglected since Christmas.  Mrs. Denys is doubtless a very excellent woman in her way, but she is not, I fear, one to whom I could safely entrust the intellectual development of a child of Jeanie’s age.”  He paused, looking up with complacent enquiry at his wife’s troubled face.  “And now what scruples are stirring in the mind of my spouse?” he asked, with playful affection.

Mrs. Lorimer did not smile in answer.  Her worried little face only drew into more anxious lines.  “Stephen,” she said, “I do wish you would consult Dr. Tudor before you quite decide to have Jeanie home at present.”

The Vicar’s mouth turned down, and he looked for a moment so extremely unpleasant that Mrs. Lorimer quailed.  Then, “My dear,” he said deliberately, “when I decide upon a specific course of action, I carry it through invariably.  If I were not convinced that what I am about to do were right, I should not do it.  Pray let me hear no more upon the subject!  And remember, Adelaide, it is my express command that you do not approach Dr. Tudor in this matter.  He is a most interfering person, and would welcome any excuse to obtain a footing in this house again.  But now that I have at length succeeded in shaking him off, I intend to keep him at a distance for the future.  And he is not to be called in—­understand this very clearly, if you please—­except in a case of extreme urgency.  This is a distinct order, Adelaide, and I shall be severely displeased if you fail to observe it.  And now,” he resumed his lighter manner again as he rose from his chair, “I must hie me to the parish room where my good Miss Whalley is awaiting me.”