"I am not a father," Mr. Arnold replied, "but I have all sorts and kinds of boys and girls who I consider belong to me. Little crossing-sweepers, and errand-boys, and miners, and school-boys, and factory-girls. And I have a few like you who enjoy plenty from their Heavenly Father."
"Did you know Mona long ago?" asked Jill.
"I knew her," said Mr. Arnold slowly, as his gaze travelled to a white-gowned figure in the distance, "when she was about as big as you, and we used to spend all our holidays together till we grew up. You ask your sister to tell you of our prank in the church tower with old Solomon Disher!"
"Oh, do tell me."
He shook his head. He saw Mona coming towards them again and he rose to meet her.
A few words that then passed between them puzzled Jill.
"Well, Mr. Arnold, tell me your news. I suppose you have never changed your opinion since we last met."
"No, I never have."
His eyes and mouth were stern as he spoke.
Mona looked at him thoughtfully, then as she met his gaze, she laughed lightly.