R. VALE was waiting for the children, holding the study door wide open to light them up the stairway.
“Come right in,” he said; “I am proud to have my first visit from my little Moorlow friends;” then turning to the sexton, he added, “We may be here for some time, Ole, and if you wait for us, it will make you late for your supper, so bring me the keys of the church when you are ready to go, and I'll take them home with me to-night.”
Ole, looking grateful for this thoughtful suggestion, trudged downstairs again, and the children walked into the room. Regie had been there several times before, but even to him it never looked so cosy as to-night. There was a bright fire on the hearth; Ole had been watching and stirring it up, for Mr. Vale had told him he expected to entertain some little folks after service. A cheery lamp was lit on the study table, as by this time it was quite dark out of doors, and near it some loving member of the congregation had placed a vase, full of beautiful roses. On one side of the room were tall book-cases, reaching to the ceiling, and on the Other three sides hung quaint old-fashioned portraits of some of the former rectors of the parish.
As soon as Nan heard Mr. Vale tell Ole that they would probably be there for some time, she quietly walked over to one corner, took off her hat and cloak, and carefully and smoothly laid them across a chair.
“Why, Nan child, who asked you to take off your things?” exclaimed Harry.
“Mr. Vale said we were to stay some time,” Nan replied, not at all disturbed; “and I think it seems cosier to take off your things.”
“I quite agree with you,” said Mr. Vale, heartily; “and these young gentlemen cannot do better than to follow your example, for we are going to draw up to the fire and have a good talk.”
So Harry and Regie, nothing loath, slipped out of their overcoats, and the little party gathered about the fire, the boys seated on either side of Mr. Vale's easy chair and Nan on his knee.
“Well, what did you think of the service?” he asked, taking Nan's little hand in his. “I know you could not have enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed looking into the upturned faces of my little Moorlow friends. It seemed as though you sort of belonged to my congregation, and ought to be there always.
“I wish we could,” sighed Nan, shaking her head thoughtfully. “I knew all the time you must be a lovely preacher, and really I think you are the nicest minister there is.”