Dale, close by in the little sitting-room, heard his wife’s voice raised thus angrily, closed the book that was lying open on his knees, and came to the window.

“What’s wrong, Mav?”

“It’s Norah offering me her sauce, and I won’t put up with it.”

Dale, with the book in his hand, came out through the kitchen, and stood by Mavis on the stone flags.

“Norah,” he said seriously, “you must always be good, and do whatever Mrs. Dale tells you.”

“Yes, but that’s just what she doesn’t do;” and Mavis explained that, in spite of repeated orders, Norah had several times gone mooning off into the woods all by herself.  “So now I’m reminding her, and asking where she means to go this afternoon.”

Norah, with her eyes on the flags, said that she would go to Rodchurch.

“Very good,” said Mavis.  “Then now you’ve answered, you may go.”

When Norah had disappeared round the corner of the house, Mavis talked to her husband apologetically and confidentially.

“Will, dear, I’m sorry I disturbed you when you were reading;” and glancing at the book in his hand, she felt ashamed of her recent warmth.  “I couldn’t help blowing her up, and I’ll tell you why.”  Then she spoke of the necessity of keeping a sharp eye and a firm hand on a girl of Norah’s age and attractions; and she further mentioned her suspicion, now almost entirely allayed, of some secret carryings-on.

“Oh, I don’t think there’s anything of that sort,” said Dale.  “No, I may say I’m morally sure Norah isn’t deceiving you there.”

“I’m glad you think so.  Yes, it’s what I think myself.  I should have bowled her out if there’d been anything going on.  But, Will, there’s other dangers for her—­worse dangers.”

“What dangers, Mavis?”

“Well, all the lads naturally are looking at her.  Norah has come on faster than you may have noticed.  I don’t want her to mix herself up with any of those louts that hang about the Cross Roads.”

“No.”

“And she’ll come across them for certain if she gets trapesing through the trees like she does.  There’s her brothers would bring them together.  Besides, it isn’t safe—­at her age.  You know yourself what’s always been said of it.”

“Quite so,” said Dale.  “You are wise, Mavis—­very wise to be watchful and careful.”

Then he returned to the sitting-room, settled himself again in the porter’s chair, and reopened his book at the place where he had been interrupted.

It was the New Testament; and just now, while reading the twenty-first chapter of Saint Matthew, he had enjoyed a clear vision of Christ’s entry into Jerusalem.  Making his picture from materials supplied by an article in the People’s Encyclopedia, he seemed to be able to see the ancient city and its exotic life as the Redeemer and the disciples must have seen it on that memorable day.  Here were the narrow streets and the crowded market-places; the towers and domes; the strangely garbed traders, laden camels, gorgeous Roman soldiers, brown-faced priests, black-bodied slaves; sunlit hills high above one, distant faintly blue mountains far ahead of one—­a thronged labyrinth of shadow and light, of noise and confusion, of pomp and squalor.