I'm going to the rectory to help Mr. Merritt, and I shall want you
to go too, to see about the silver."

"But, mother," expostulated Carroll, "wouldn't Marie do just as
well?"

"You know very well she can't be trusted without direction."

"I DO so want to go to the park," said Carroll wistfully. Mrs.
Bishop's thin, nervous figure jerked spasmodically. "There is very
little asked of you from morning until night," she said, with some
asperity, "and I should think you'd have some slight consideration
for the fact that I'm just up from a sick bed to spare me all you
could. Besides which, you do very little for the church. I won't
insist. Do exactly as you think best."

Carroll threw a pathetic glance at Orde.

"How soon are you going?" she asked her mother.

"In about ten minutes," replied Mrs. Bishop; "as soon as I've seen
Honorine about the dinner." She seemed abruptly to realise that the
amenities demanded something of her. "I'm sorry we must go so
soon," she said briefly to Orde, "but of course church business--We
shall hope to see you often."

Once more Orde held aside the curtains. The flame-bird drooped from
the twilight of the hall into the dimness of the parlour. All the
brightness seemed to have drained from the day, and all the joy of
life seemed to have faded from the girl's soul. She sank into a