“Well, goodbye, Chris, till tomorrow night!” And then, as they released each other’s hands, “You’re not to look round now!” he added querulously.

“I’ve never looked round in my life!” retorted Christie Malakite, as she gave him her parting nod.

It was still about half-an-hour before church-time when he reached the gate of King’s Barton Vicarage. And there was T. E. Valley himself, in his ragged brown ulster, scraping with a hoe at one side of the drive!

For a moment Wolf found himself enjoying the lot of this little clergyman. He had no worries about girls. He had no worries about money. He had no mother but the Mother of God.