"Yes, I did, and I thought it very cruel."

"Don't you like me to throw stones at the birds?"

"Certainly I do not."

"Then I won't," said Dexter; and he took aim with the round stone he carried at the stone urn on the top of a tomb, hitting it with a sounding crack.

"There, wasn't that a good aim!" he said, with a smile of triumph. "It couldn't hurt that. That wasn't cruel."

Helen turned crimson with annoyance, for she had suddenly become aware of the fact that a gentleman, whom she recognised as the Vicar, was coming along the path quickly, having evidently seen the stone-throwing.

She was quite right in her surmise. It was the Vicar; and not recognising her with her veil down, he strode toward them, making up an angry speech.

"Ah, Miss Grayson," he said, raising his hat, and ceasing to make his stick quiver in his hand, "I did not recognise you."

Then followed the customary hand-shakings and inquiries, during which Dexter hung back, and gazed up at the crocketed spire, and at the jackdaws flying in and out of the slits which lit the stone staircase within.

"And who is this?" said the Vicar, raising his gla.s.ses to his eyes, but knowing perfectly well all the time, he having been one of the first to learn of the doctor's eccentricity. "Ah, to be sure; Doctor Grayson's _protege_. Yes, I remember him perfectly well, and I suppose you remember me!"

"Yes, I remember you," said Dexter. "You called me a stupid boy because I couldn't say all of _I desire_."

"Did I? Ah, to be sure, I remember. Well, but you are not stupid now.

I dare say, if I asked you, you would remember every word."

"Don't think I could," said the boy; "it's the hardest bit in the Cat."

"But I'm not going to ask you," said the Vicar. "Miss Grayson here will examine you, I'm sure. There, good day. Good day, Miss Grayson;" and, to Helen's great relief, he shook hands with both. "And I'm to ask you not to throw stones in the churchyard," he added, shaking his stick playfully. "My windows easily break."

He nodded and smiled again, as Helen and her young companion went on, watching them till they had pa.s.sed through the further gate and disappeared.

"A mischievous young rascal!" he said to himself. "I believe I should have given him the stick if it had been anybody else."

As he said this, he walked down a side path which led past the tomb that had formed Dexter's target.

"I dare say he has chipped the urn," he continued, feeling exceedingly vexed, as a Vicar always does when he finds any wanton defacement of the building and surroundings in his charge.

"No," he said aloud, and in a satisfied tone, "unhurt. But tut--tut-- tut--tut! what tiresome young monkeys boys are!"

He turned back, and went thoughtfully toward the town.

"Singular freak on the part of Grayson. Most eccentric man," he continued. "Danby tells me--now really what a coincidence! Sir James, by all that is singular! Ah, my dear Sir James, I was thinking about you. Ah, Edgar, my boy, how are you?"

He shook hands warmly with the magistrate and his son.

"Thinking about me, eh!" said Sir James, rather pompously. "Then I'll be bound to say that I can tell you what you are thinking."

"No, I believe I may say for certain you cannot," said the Vicar, smiling.

"Of calling on me for a subscription."

"Wrong this time," said the Vicar good-humouredly. "No; I have just met Miss Grayson with that boy."

"Indeed!"

"Yes; very eccentric of Grayson, is it not!"

"Whim for a week or two. Soon get tired of it," said Sir James, laughing.

"Think so?"

"Sure of it, sir; sure of it."

"Well, I hope not," said the Vicar thoughtfully. "Fine thing for the poor boy. Make a man of him."

"Ah, but he is not content with that. He means to make a gentleman of him, and that's an impossibility."

"Ah, well," said the Vicar good-humouredly; "we shall see."

"Yes, sir," said Sir James; "we shall see--we shall see; but it's a most unpleasant episode in our midst. Of course, being such near neighbours, I have been on the most intimate terms with the Graysons, and Lady Danby is warmly attached to Helen Grayson; but now they have this boy there, they want us to know him too."

"Indeed!" said the Vicar, looking half-amused, half puzzled.

"Yes, sir," said Sir James; "and they want--at least Grayson does--Edgar here to become his playmate."

"Ah!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed the Vicar.

"Sent word yesterday that they should be glad if Edgar would go and spend the afternoon. Awkward, sir; extremely awkward."

"Did he go?"

"Go? no, sir; decidedly not. Edgar refused to go, point-blank."

Master Edgar was walking a little way in front, looking like a small edition of his father in a short jacket, for he imitated Sir James's stride, put on his tall hat at the same angle, and carried his black cane with its two silken ta.s.sels in front of him, as a verger in church carries a wand.

"I wasn't going," said Master Edgar importantly. "I don't want to know a boy like that."

"What would you do under the circ.u.mstances?" said Sir James.

"Do?" said the Vicar; "why I should--I beg your pardon--will you excuse me? I am wanted."

He pointed to a lady who was signalling to him with a parasol, and hurried off.

"How lucky!" he said to himself. "I don't want to offend Sir James; but 'pon my word, knowing what I do of his young cub, I would rather have Grayson's _protege_ on spec."

"Where are we going for a walk, pa!" said Master Edgar importantly.

"Through the quarry there, and by the windmill, and back home."