the long black coat and tall hat which he was accustomed to wear when he drove Mr. Boosey’s fly on great festivals.  Most of the cottages in the single street sported a bit of holly in their windows, and altogether the appearance of Billingsfield was singularly festive and mirthful.  At precisely ten minutes to eleven the vicar and Mrs. Ambrose, accompanied by John, issued from the vicarage and went across the road by the private path to the church.  As they entered the porch Mr. Reid, who stood solemnly tolling the small bell, popularly nicknamed the “Ting-tang,” and of which the single rope passed down close to the south door, vouchsafed John a sour smile of recognition.  John felt as though he had come home.  Mrs. Goddard and Nellie appeared a moment afterwards and took their seats in the pew traditionally belonging to the cottage, behind that of the squire who was always early, and the sight of whose smoothly brushed hair and brown beard was a constant source of satisfaction to Mrs. Ambrose.  John and Mrs. Ambrose sat on the opposite side of the aisle, but John’s eyes strayed very frequently towards Mrs. Goddard; so frequently indeed that she noticed it and leaned far back in her seat to avoid his glance.  Whereupon John blushed and felt that the vicar, who was reading the Second Lesson, had probably noticed his distraction.  It was hard to realise that two years and a half had passed since he had sat in that same pew; perhaps, however, the presence of Mrs. Goddard helped him to understand the lapse of time.  But for her it would have been very hard; for the vicar’s voice sounded precisely as it used to sound; Mrs. Ambrose had not lost her habit of removing one glove and putting it into her prayer book as a mark while she found the hymn in the accompanying volume; the bright decorations looked as they looked years ago above the organ and round the chancel; from far down the church, just before the sermon, came the old accustomed sound of small boys shuffling their hobnailed shoes upon the stone floor and the audible guttural whisper of the churchwarden admonishing them to “mind the stick;” the stained-glass windows admitted the same pleasant light as of yore—­all was unchanged.  But Mrs. Goddard and Nellie occupied the cottage pew, and their presence alone was sufficient to mark to John the fact that he was now a man.

The service was sympathetic to John Short.  He liked the simplicity of it, even the rough singing of the choir, as compared with the solemn and magnificent musical services of Trinity College Chapel.  But it seemed very long before it was all over and he was waiting for Mrs. Goddard outside the church door.

There were more greetings, more “Merry Christmas” and “Many happy returns.”  Mrs. Goddard looked more charming than ever and was quite as cordial as on the previous evening.

“How much better it all looked this morning by daylight,” she said.

“I think it looked very pretty last night,” answered John.  “There is nothing so delightful as Christmas decorations, is there?”