though forbidden, to swing backwards and forwards on it.  They walked through the garden to the front-door.  This was only used by visitors and on Sundays, and on special occasions, as when the Vicar went up to London or came back.  The traffic of the house took place through a side-door, and there was a back door as well for the gardener and for beggars and tramps.  It was a fairly large house of yellow brick, with a red roof, built about five and twenty years before in an ecclesiastical style.  The front-door was like a church porch, and the drawing-room windows were gothic.

Mrs. Carey, knowing by what train they were coming, waited in the drawing-room and listened for the click of the gate.  When she heard it she went to the door.

“There’s Aunt Louisa,” said Mr. Carey, when he saw her.  “Run and give her a kiss.”

Philip started to run, awkwardly, trailing his club-foot, and then stopped.  Mrs. Carey was a little, shrivelled woman of the same age as her husband, with a face extraordinarily filled with deep wrinkles, and pale blue eyes.  Her gray hair was arranged in ringlets according to the fashion of her youth.  She wore a black dress, and her only ornament was a gold chain, from which hung a cross.  She had a shy manner and a gentle voice.

“Did you walk, William?” she said, almost reproachfully, as she kissed her husband.

“I didn’t think of it,” he answered, with a glance at his nephew.

“It didn’t hurt you to walk, Philip, did it?” she asked the child.

“No.  I always walk.”

He was a little surprised at their conversation.  Aunt Louisa told him to come in, and they entered the hall.  It was paved with red and yellow tiles, on which alternately were a Greek Cross and the Lamb of God.  An imposing staircase led out of the hall.  It was of polished pine, with a peculiar smell, and had been put in because fortunately, when the church was reseated, enough wood remained over.  The balusters were decorated with emblems of the Four Evangelists.

“I’ve had the stove lighted as I thought you’d be cold after your journey,” said Mrs. Carey.

It was a large black stove that stood in the hall and was only lighted if the weather was very bad and the Vicar had a cold.  It was not lighted if Mrs. Carey had a cold.  Coal was expensive.  Besides, Mary Ann, the maid, didn’t like fires all over the place.  If they wanted all them fires they must keep a second girl.  In the winter Mr. and Mrs. Carey lived in the dining-room so that one fire should do, and in the summer they could not get out of the habit, so the drawing-room was used only by Mr. Carey on Sunday afternoons for his nap.  But every Saturday he had a fire in the study so that he could write his sermon.

Aunt Louisa took Philip upstairs and showed him into a tiny bed-room that looked out on the drive.  Immediately in front of the window was a large tree, which Philip remembered now because the branches were so low that it was possible to climb quite high up it.