“Now you must all be very good at the rectory,” said Jennifer.

“You must not let your crumbs fall upon the floor. And when Mr. or Mrs. Orland speaks to you, you must answer up promptly and very respectfully. And if Everard should take you into the graveyard, you must be very quiet.” She gripped Carolan’s arm, for the child who had been staring out of the window before she had mentioned the graveyard, was now sitting up tense in her seat.

“Don’t go prying around too much in the graveyard.”

Margaret, who was very matter-of-fact and without much imagination, said: “Why mustn’t you pry round the graveyard? I can’t see that it matters; everybody there is dead.”

“Hush!” said Jennifer, and looked at Carolan.

“The vaults are interesting,” said Charles.

“Full of dead people!”

They put the coffins on shelves,” added Margaret.

“So that one family can keep together,” said Jennifer.

“I’ve heard stories about what happens in the graveyard at night; it would make your flesh creep to hear them!”

“They are like little houses,” said Charles.

“Houses where the dead lie,” said Jennifer.

“Now, Carolan. there is no need to look so frightened, Miss. Nobody is going to put you there. But mind you don’t go prowling round where you should not go, and get shut in with the dead. A nice thing that would be!”

Carolan was white to the lips at the thought of it.

“Baby!” said Margaret contemptuously.

Carolan shut her eyes and tried to tell herself that she was not in the carriage at all, but in the cottage with Mamma.

“Sparks!” she murmured to herself.

“Rover!” For those were the names of the dogs which breathed fire.

The carriage had drawn up outside the rectory gates, and Mrs. Orland and Everard came out to greet them. Mrs. Orland was very gracious. She was sure, she said, that Jennifer would like a chat with her friend, Mrs. Privett. Mrs. Privett was the housekeeper at the rectory, and Jennifer hated her. This was one of the humiliations which made her so angry. She might have been riding in her own carriage to pay a call, had her plans not gone wrong; now she was here in The role of governess, and Mrs. Orland’s drawing-room was closed to her; she must go to the housekeeper’s room and chat with that stupid Mrs. Privett whose talk was all of apple jelly and inferior servants.

“Well,” said Mrs. Orland, ‘and how is little Carolan?” Carolan was quite the most charming of the Haredon children, even though she had made such a distressing entry into the world. Mrs. Orland was afraid she was a little too broad-minded, but one could not help liking the child.

Carolan put her hand in Mrs. Orland’s and they went into the drawing-room.

Everard looked very handsome today, and bigger than Carolan had been thinking him. He sat down, and his feet looked just like a man’s feet; Carolan’s did not reach the floor, and she longed for her legs to grow so that they would. Margaret sat staring at Everard; she was always like that in Everard’s company; she doted on him, and he did not like it very much. Margaret knew it, but she could not help staring at him. Carolan stared a little at him too, but there were other things to stare at in Mrs. Orland’s drawing-room, because it was such a wonderful place, and Mamma’s mamma had lived here once, when she was Carolan’s age, which made it a very exciting place to be in.

Mrs. Orland talked to them very brightly while they ate seedcake and drank their milk. She talked of lessons, but that was not to Carolan who was too young to know much about them, but to Charles chiefly, occasionally bringing in Margaret. Carolan did not mind being ignored; she was quite happy; she loved seedcake and the milk was delicious, and on a stand near her chair was a fascinating ornament which represented a woodland scene; it was set on a wooden stand, and there was a glass shade over it. It was wonderful. There was green moss and some trees, and on one of the branches a real stuffed bird. When she pressed her face close to the grass she could imagine she was standing under the trees, and that her cottage was not far away, and that her dogs would come leaping out at her from behind those trees. Mrs. Orland was saying: “Would you like me to take off the glass shade?”

Carolan had no words to express her delight. One plump finger stroked the bird’s feathers.

“Pretty, pretty pretty!” cooed Carolan.

Such a baby, thought Mrs. Orland, although sometimes she had the air of quite a sophisticated young person!

Margaret was standing near Everard, saying shyly: “Everard, please show me your books; I do want to see your books!”

Everard almost scowled, but Mrs. Orland said: “Take Margaret to your study and show her your books, Everard.”

Everard said: “I do not want to Mother. I…”

“Everard. Margaret is your guest!”

Everard went very red, and led Margaret ungraciously towards the door.

“And when you have seen them, you may join the others in the garden. And remember … not too much noise. Papa is writing his sermon.”

Carolan said: “Is he always writing sermons?”

But no one answered that, and she supposed he was, because whenever she was at the rectory she was always told to be quiet on that account, and she could not imagine the rectory unless she herself was there.

“Now, Charles, suppose you take your little sister into the garden and show her the nice flowers until the others come down. You would like to see the nice flowers. Carolan?”

Carolan would have liked to stay with the wood on the stand, but Charles was eager to escape from the restraint of Mrs. Orland’s drawing-room.

“Come on, Carolan!” he cried, just as though he really wanted to show her the flowers, so that Carolan thought he had changed suddenly, and liked her after all.

It was lovely in the garden.

“Who wants to see her old flowers!” said Charles, but he said it in quite a friendly way, and Carolan laughed because she had always really wanted to be friendly with Charles.

“Do you want to see her old flowers, Carolan?”

“No,” said Carolan.

“Nor do II’ He laughed as though it were a great joke and Carolan laughed too because she was never sure about jokes, and always laughed when she thought there was one.

Charles led the way to the end of the garden, and at the end of the garden was a low stone wall__and beyond the wall was the graveyard.

“They look funny, those gravestones!” said Charles, and he laughed; so, thinking it was another joke, Carolan laughed too.

Charles was being very nice this afternoon.

“See me leap that wall!” he cried, and did so.

“You could not do it!” he challenged.

She knew she could not, but she tried. He stood on the other side of the wall, laughing at her, but not in a spiteful way.

“You are too little, Carolan; you will be able to when you are bigger.”

“I wish I was bigger!”

“Oh… you will be one day. Give me your hand and I will help you over.”

She scraped her knees getting over, but it was exciting being on the other side of the wall. She liked it. The gravestones were like ladies in grey cloaks, but they did not frighten her; the sunlight glinted on them, making them sparkle, showing her that though they might look like people they were only stones after all. How she loved the great blazing sun up there. It was such a comforter; she was not afraid of very much when she felt that to be close by.

“See if you can catch me,” said Charles, and he walked quickly amongst the gravestones.

“I walk!” he called over his shoulder.

“You run. That is what you call handicaps, Carolan. Oh …” For she had nearly caught him. Carolan shrieked with delight; she forgot all the unkind Charleses she had known, and remembered only the kind one who had helped her scramble over the wall and let her play touch with him in the graveyard. She caught him and they stopped, laughing, by the side of what to Carolan looked like a little house covered in ivy.