in these directions.  Miss Mallory discoursed of India.  Mrs. Colwood had lived in it.  But her husband had entered the Indian Civil Service, simply in order that he might have money enough to marry her.  And during their short time together, they had probably been more keenly alive to the depreciation of the rupee than to ideas of England’s imperial mission.  But Herbert had done his duty, of course he had.  Once or twice as Miss Mallory talked the little widow’s eyes filled with tears again unseen.  The Indian names Diana threw so proudly into air were, for her companion, symbols of heart-break and death.  But she played her part; and her comments and interjections were all that was necessary to keep the talk flowing.

In the midst of it voices were suddenly heard outside.  Diana started.

“Carols!” she said, with flushing cheeks.  “The first time I have heard them in England itself!”

She flew to the hall, and threw the door open.  A handful of children appeared shouting “Good King Wenceslas” in a hideous variety of keys.  Miss Mallory heard them with enthusiasm; then turned to the butler behind her.

“Give them a shilling, please, Brown.”

A quick change passed over the countenance of the man addressed.

“Lady Emily, ma’am, never gave more than three-pence.”

This stately person had formerly served the Vavasours, and was much inclined to let his present mistress know it.

Diana looked disappointed, but submissive.

“Oh, very well, Brown—­I don’t want to alter any of the old ways.  But I hear the choir will come up to-night.  Now they must have five shillings—­and supper, please, Brown.”

Brown drew himself up a little more stiffly.

“Lady Emily always gave ’em supper, ma’am, but, begging your pardon, she didn’t hold at all with giving ’em money.”

“Oh, I don’t care!” said Miss Mallory, hastily.  “I’m sure they’ll like it, Brown!  Five shillings, please.”

Brown withdrew, and Diana, with a laughing face and her hands over her ears, to mitigate the farewell bawling of the children, turned to Mrs. Colwood, with an invitation to dress for church.

“The first time for me,” she explained.  “I have been coming up and down, for a month or more, two or three days at a time, to see to the furnishing.  But now I am at home!”

* * * * *

The Christmas service in the parish church was agreeable enough.  The Beechcote pew was at the back of the church, and as the new mistress of the old house entered and walked down the aisle, she drew the eyes of a large congregation of rustics and small shopkeepers.  Diana moved in a kind of happy absorption, glancing gently from side to side.  This gathering of villagers was to her representative of a spiritual and national fellowship to which she came now to be joined.  The old church, wreathed in ivy and holly; the tombs