“You were on the prairies?”

“I lived some time on a prairie farm.”

“Everything here must seem very small to you,” said the vicar sympathetically.  But this amiable tone fell flat.  Miss Henderson still sat silent.  The vicar began to feel matters awkward and took his hat from the floor.

“I trust you will call upon me for any help I can possibly be to you,” he said, turning to Janet Leighton.  “I should be delighted to help in the harvest if you want it.  I have a pair of hands anyway, as you see!” He held them out.

He expatiated a little more on his disappointment as to the front.  Janet threw in a few civil words.  Rachel Henderson had moved to the window, and was apparently looking at the farm-girls carrying straw across the yard.

“Good-night, Miss Henderson,” said the young man at last, conscious of rebuff, but irrepressibly effusive and friendly all the time.  “I hope you will let your Ralstone girl come sometimes to the clubroom my sister and I have in the village?  We feel young people ought to be amused, especially when they work hard.”

“Thank you, but it’s so far away.  We don’t like them to be out late.”

“Certainly not.  But in the long evenings—­don’t you know?” The vicar smiled persuasively.  “However, there it is—­whenever she comes she will be welcome.  And then, as to your seat in church.  There is a pew that has always belonged to the farm.  It is about half-way up.”

“We don’t go to church,” said Rachel, facing him.  “At least, I don’t.”  She looked at her companion.

“And I can’t be counted on,” said Janet, smiling.

The vicar flushed a little.

“Then you’re not Church of England?”

“I am,” said Rachel indifferently; “at least I’m not anything else.  Miss Leighton is a Unitarian.”  Then her eyes lit up with a touch of fun, and for the first time she smiled.  “I’m afraid you’ll think us dreadful heathens, Mr. Shenstone!”

What the vicar did think was that he had never seen a smile transform a face so agreeably.  And having begun to smile, Rachel perversely continued it.  She walked to the gate with her visitor, talking with irrelevant animation, inviting him to come the following day to help in the “carrying,” asking questions about the village and its people, and graciously consenting to fix a day when she and her friend would go to tea with Miss Shenstone at the vicarage.  The young man fairly beamed under the unexpected change, and lingered at the gate as though unable to tear himself away; till with a little peremptory nod, though still smiling, Rachel dismissed him.