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Mr. Daintree, of the Victorian Geological Survey, many years ago discovered accidentally that gold chloride would deposit its metal on a metallic base in the presence of any organic substance. Mr.
There was a little pleasant confusion of broken words and explanations between the three, and then Marion whisked away, brimming over with triumphant delight to wave the flags of victory exultingly in her mother-in-law's face. Eustace Daintree and Vera were alone. He took her hands within his, and looked steadfastly in her face. "Vera, are you sure of yourself, my dear, in this matter?"
Daintree is dead, and no one sorrowed much for her loss, whilst the domestic harmony is decidedly enhanced by her absence. Tommy and Minnie are growing big and lanky, and the subject of schools and education is beginning to occupy the minds of Marion and her husband. But the vicar has grown grey and old; his back is more bent and his face more careworn than it used to be.
Daintree, and what a treat to be in a Christian church I mean a Protestant church again after those dreadful Sundays on the Continent." Vera had turned to Maurice. "Have you any news of Sir John yet?" "No; we cannot expect to hear of his arrival till next month. I dare say you will like to hear about him. I will let you know as soon as he writes."
"Vera," said Eustace Daintree, coming leisurely up to her through the garden gate, "how on earth do you come to be talking to Sir John; has he been saying anything to you about the chancel?" "Who was it? who did you say?" cried Vera, aghast. "Why, Sir John Kynaston, to be sure. Did you not know it was he?" She was thunderstruck. "Are you quite sure?" she faltered. "Why, of course!
Having thus settled things comfortably in her own mind, she went downstairs again, and was in such good spirits, and so radiant with smiles for the rest of the evening, that Mr. Daintree remarked to his wife, when they had retired into their conjugal chamber, that he had never seen Vera look so well or so happy.
Came home from a remote corner of the Argentine, or somewhere like that, early in the war, and got a commission. He's a captain now." "I met him," I said, "down Albert way, shortly before the push last year. I can't say I knew him. He seemed to me rather a difficult kind of man to know." "So my wife says," said Daintree.
Her hair, a soft dusky cloud, comes down low over her broad forehead, and is gathered up at the back in some strange and thoroughly un-English fashion that would not suit every one, yet that somehow makes a fitting crown to the stately young head it adorns. "Tea, Vera?" says Marion, from behind the cups and saucers. Old Mrs. Daintree sits darning socks, severely, by the fading light.
Daintree became an amiable old lady. Marion did all that was needful; figuratively speaking, she laid down in the dust before her, and the Juggernaut of her fate consented to be appeased by the lowly attitude, and crushed its way triumphantly over her fallen body. Thus Marion accepted her fate, and peace was preserved in her husband's house.
But there was the chancel! To leave it as it was whilst restoring the nave would have been too heart-rending; to touch it without Sir John Kynaston's assistance, impossible and illegal. Several times Eustace Daintree had applied to Sir John in writing upon the subject. The answers had been vague and unsatisfactory.
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