"Then one ought never to wish for change?"
"One ought never to give in to a spirit of discontent. Natural 'wishing' is a different matter—if we keep our hold on the reins. But always remember—He loves—and He knows best."
Doris kept silence so long that he went back to his work, and presently lost himself in it, forgetting all else. She would not interrupt him again, but after watching a little while, she went out; and the Squire soon came in her stead. He too stood gazing. For the Rector with his tools was a sight worth looking at; a picture of power and perfect content. Sermon-writing had hung fire, and in despair he had escaped hither. Often he could not command his brain to work; but always he could command his hands.
"Morning—" he murmured in response to a movement. "Sit down, please. I'll attend—two minutes."
Mr. Stirling obeyed, using the one chair. He knew that the two minutes would expand, for Mr. Winton at work had no consciousness of time. But for once it was the latter who spoke.
"I say—what has put into that child's wanting to get away?"
"Doris's?"
"Aye." "Why not let her go?"
The Rector looked up, shook his head, and gazed at the lectern.
"You think she could not be spared."