That afternoon, they extended their search to Fulsom Hall.

The day had turned fine, and the children had insisted they could all cram into the gig. Therese managed the reins, with Melissa beside her, juggling Lottie on her lap, while Jamie and George had clambered up behind the seat; they clung to its back as Therese guided the mare—thankfully of stoic disposition—down the manor drive and up the village lane.

Therese was quietly pleased that there had been not the slightest hesitation on Melissa’s part over accompanying them. It seemed her older granddaughter now considered herself a committed member of their investigative team; her rejoining of the familial tribe had progressed that far at least.

They reached the entrance to the Fulsom Hall drive without mishap, and Therese turned the gig in under the overhanging trees. “Since Eugenia married Christian and moved to Dutton Grange, Mrs. Woolsey has been in charge of the household here. As Henry is still up at Oxford, managing the Hall’s household hasn’t overtaxed Mrs. Woolsey—I understand she spends quite a lot of time at the Grange with Eugenia, Christian, and Baby Cedric.”

“Mrs. Woolsey probably likes to cuddle the baby,” Lottie observed.

“Indeed. But we need to remember that Mrs. Woolsey is not a robust character,” Therese said. “We need to question her gently if we’re to learn anything to the point.”

From the corner of her eye, she saw Melissa take due note.

They reached the forecourt, and Therese halted the gig. Jamie and George jumped down. George went to the mare’s head, and Jamie stood ready to help Therese to alight. She nodded approvingly and gripped his hand. “Thank you.”

He grinned.

Lottie had scrambled down on the other side, and Melissa descended and shook out her skirt.

One of the Hall’s stable lads came running to take charge of the horse. George greeted him by name, as did Jamie. After exchanging several comments, George handed over the reins.

By then, Therese had flicked her skirt straight and settled her coat. “Come, boys.” She waved them ahead as she made for the porch and the front door. Melissa, holding Lottie’s hand, fell in alongside Therese.

Jamie tugged the bellpull. After several seconds, footsteps approached, then Mountjoy opened the door.

The butler’s face creased in a smile. “Lady Osbaldestone.” His gaze shifted to Jamie, George, and Lottie, and he gave an unbutlerlike chuckle. “I’d heard that you have your Christmas helpers with you again this year.”

“Indeed, Mountjoy.” Therese glided into the front hall. She waved at Melissa as she followed. “This is another of my granddaughters—Miss North.”

Mountjoy inclined his head to Melissa. “I believe Mrs. Woolsey is in the morning room—”

“No, no, Mountjoy—I’m here.” Trailing two woolen shawls and with a knitted scarf loosely draped about her neck, Ermintrude Woolsey came fluttering forward from the rear of the hall. “Lady Osbaldestone! Such a delight to see you again.” Mrs. Woolsey halted and surveyed the children, who bowed and bobbed and grinned. Mrs. Woolsey’s lined face softened in a gentle smile. “I see you three are back, and you’ve brought an older sister.”

“A cousin,” Therese supplied. “Another of my granddaughters, Miss North.”

Melissa curtsied. “Mrs. Woolsey.”

“Welcome, my dear—indeed, welcome to all of you.” Mrs. Woolsey turned bird-bright eyes on Therese. “Have you come to take tea? I fear Henry hasn’t yet returned—indeed, I’m not quite sure where he is at present—but he wrote to expect him and several of his friends who came last year. I gather he intends hosting them here for the weeks before Christmas—as he did last year—so I expect that means he and they will be arriving any day.”

Mrs. Woolsey turned her gaze on Jamie, George, and Lottie and confided, “Apparently, they—Henry’s friends—had so much fun here last year, they begged to come again. I suspect you three feel the same, seeing that you’re back in Little Moseley, too.”

George and Lottie smiled and nodded, leaving it to Jamie to say, “Indeed, ma’am. Christmas at Little Moseley is quite special.”

Foreseeing, from Mrs. Woolsey’s expression, a lengthy digression into all the events that had taken place the previous Christmas, Therese stepped in to say, “Actually, it’s one of the village’s special Christmas events that brings us here—namely, the carol service.”

Mrs. Woolsey lightly clapped her hands. “The carols—always so lovely! So evocative in this season, don’t you think?”

“Indeed,” Therese replied. “But a slight difficulty has arisen, which we’re attempting to overcome. The church’s book of carols has been mislaid, and we’re on a quest to locate it.”

Mrs. Woolsey’s expression blanked, then she opened her eyes wide. “The book of carols? The red one? The Universal Book of Christmas Carols?”

“Yes” came from several throats, and the children nodded.

Therese carefully continued, “We understand you borrowed the book at some point in the recent past and wanted to ask if you still had it.”

“Oh no. I only needed it for a few days. After that, I took it back to the church—to the vestry,” Mrs. Woolsey earnestly assured them. Then her face clouded, and her gaze grew uncertain. A second later, she frowned. “At least…I think I did.” Her frown deepened, then she looked imploringly at Therese. “I must have, don’t you think? Quite wrong of me to have kept it…” Still frowning, she tipped her head, and her gaze grew unfocused. “But you see, I don’t think I did. Keep it, I mean. Indeed, I’m almost sure I put it back on the shelf in the vestry.”

Having expected such vagueness, Therese calmly asked, “When you had the book, where did you keep it?”

“Why, in the music room, of course.” Mrs. Woolsey waved down one of the corridors leading from the hall. “The pianoforte’s in there, so you see, there would be no point in the book being anywhere else.”

“Indeed.” Therese looked at her grandchildren. “Perhaps, Ermintrude, you and I might repair to the drawing room, and Mountjoy might bring in some tea, and meanwhile, Melissa and the children can look in the music room, just to make sure the book is no longer there.”

“Oh yes. What a good idea.” Mrs. Woolsey smiled at Melissa, Jamie, George, and Lottie. “Mountjoy, please show these young people to the music room.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Mountjoy caught Therese’s eye. “And after that, I’ll bring tea to the drawing room.”

“Excellent. Thank you, Mountjoy.” With an airy gesture, Mrs. Woolsey led Therese toward the drawing room.

Melissa turned to Mountjoy.

The butler indicated a corridor leading deeper into the house. “If you will come this way, miss”—he directed a smile at the other three—“young gents and lady, I’ll show you where you will need to search.”

When the butler ushered them into the music room, Melissa understood his phrasing; the room was large and long and boasted a pianoforte and several other wind and stringed instruments arranged about the rectangular space. The room also contained what appeared to be hundreds of sheets of music; they stood stacked on every available surface, cascading from chairs and side tables, and in several instances, spilling and spreading over the floor.

“Good Lord,” George said. “We’ll be here until Christmas.”

Jamie snorted. “It’s lucky there are four of us to search.”

Melissa, quietly stunned, nodded to Mountjoy. “We’ll return to the drawing room after we finish here.”

The butler bowed and withdrew, leaving them staring at the challenge before them.

Melissa glanced around, then suggested, “Let’s divide the room into quarters and search one each.”

The others agreed. Melissa moved to the left of the door.

For the next half hour, they searched, lifting each pile of sheets and checking that no book was hidden among them, poking into cupboards and peering under furniture, and checking every compartment of the various music stools and instrument cases they found discarded and stacked around the walls.

They unearthed no book of carols—not even any loose sheets of individual carols—but—

“Look at this!” Lottie called from the far corner of the room.

Melissa glanced up to see that her youngest cousin had finally reached the end of her section and had lifted a flap of a heavy black cloth thrown over some large piece of furniture and had all but disappeared beneath the covering.

The heavy cloth muffled Lottie’s voice as it rose in excitement. “It’s a harp!”

The others looked at each other, then left what they were doing and hurried over to see. After ducking and peering beneath the cover and determining that Lottie wasn’t imagining things, Melissa worked with Jamie to lift the black material off the instrument, ultimately revealing a full-sized harp.

For an instant, the four of them stared at their find. Then Melissa smiled. “Faith is going to be so pleased.”

“Mr. Mortimer, too.” Lottie grinned.

Five minutes later, having searched to the point where they felt they could justifiably swear that The Universal Book of Christmas Carols was no longer in the Fulsom Hall music room, Melissa led the other three into the drawing room.

At their grandmother’s questioning look, she reported, “We didn’t find the book of carols, but we found a harp. A full-sized one. It appears to be in working order.”

“Oh yes,” Mrs. Woolsey said. “That would be Eugenia and Henry’s mother’s harp. She was quite a talented musician, you know. Most of the instruments in the music room are hers. Other than for the pianoforte, I fear I have little aptitude.”

Melissa looked pointedly at her grandmother, but somewhat to her surprise, her grandmother nodded at her to continue. She cast about for the best way to explain, then said, “Mrs. Woolsey, a Miss Faith Collison has come to stay with Mrs. Swindon—Miss Collison is Mrs. Swindon’s niece-by-marriage.”

“Oh?” Mrs. Woolsey’s expression brightened. “It’s always nice to have young family visit one at Christmastime.”

“Indeed.” As Melissa had hoped, the mention of a visiting relative had piqued their hostess’s curiosity. “Miss Collison,” Melissa went on, “is quite accomplished on the harp, but sadly, she was unable to bring her instrument with her. I daresay you’ve heard the wonderful playing of the village’s new organist—it’s been suggested that if a harp could be found for Miss Collison, she might play with the organ during the village’s carol service, which would make the service something quite special. We”—Melissa included her three cousins with a glance—“wondered if it might be possible for Miss Collison—well, the church, really—to borrow the harp in your music room, so Miss Collison might play at the carol service.”

Melissa had decided that gaining the use of the harp for the carol service had to be their first objective; if she wished, Faith could later ask to move the instrument to Swindon Hall’s music room for safekeeping.

Mrs. Woolsey’s faded brows had risen almost to her hairline. She blinked, then said, “I can’t see why not. No one’s played the poor thing in an age. Of course, it’s really Eugenia and Henry’s property, but neither have ever shown any propensity for playing it, so…” Mrs. Woolsey looked to Melissa’s grandmother for guidance.

Her grandmother nodded. “All musical instruments are better for being used. I’ll speak to Eugenia about the harp when next I see her, but meanwhile…”

“Indeed, indeed.” Mrs. Woolsey turned a smiling face to Melissa and her cousins. “I’ll speak to Mountjoy about having the harp suitably conveyed to the church.” Mrs. Woolsey blinked myopically, then her face clouded. “I’ve just remembered. Someone will need to restring and retune it, and I’m afraid I have no idea…”

“I’m sure Miss Collison will know,” Melissa rushed to say. “And I’m sure she’ll take the very best of care of the harp—she’ll be so grateful to have it to play.”

Mrs. Woolsey’s vague smile returned. “Oh, that’s such a relief. I know dear Maude would be delighted that her harp was being used, and for the village’s carol service, too.”

Melissa was profuse in her thanks and added those of Mortimer, Faith, and her cousins as well.

Therese watched, listened, and approved. Not a hint of reserve or reticence remained in Melissa’s manner. All in all, her previously reluctant granddaughter was coming along very well.

The following morning, a minor panic over locating Lottie’s coat meant that it was ten minutes past the hour when Melissa and her cousins toiled up the rise to the front doors of the church.

“There’s no music.” Jamie halted and stared at the closed doors.

“Oh.” Lottie halted beside him, her little face transforming into a mask of concern. “Perhaps Mr. Mortimer thought we weren’t coming and went away.”

“I doubt it.” Melissa walked past the pair and on. “Most likely he’s sorting through music or some such thing. Come on, or we’ll be even later.”

The three hurried after her. She reached the door, pushed it open, and quietly walked inside.

Alerted by some sixth sense, she slowed and looked toward the organ corral—then held up a hand in warning to her cousins as they followed her into the nave.

The three clustered around her and looked, too.

Richard Mortimer wasn’t sorting music. He wasn’t even at the organ, which lay silent beside him. He was helping Faith restring and tune the Fulsom Hall harp.

The pair were speaking in low voices as they worked. Richard’s expression was relaxed, and a smile flirted about Faith’s lips as she replied to his comments.

Together with her cousins, Melissa remained silent and unmoving in the shadows that shrouded that end of the nave.

After several more minutes of quiet exchanges, the harp was finally fully strung and tuned.

Richard stepped back and studied the picture Faith made seated behind the instrument. She looked up at him and smiled, then ran her fingers lightly over the strings, sending delicate chords rippling through the silence.

As the sound faded, Richard seemed to come to himself. He frowned, pulled out his pocket watch and checked it, then he raised his head and, frowning still, looked up the nave toward the front door.

Jamie reacted first, stepping forward and walking down the aisle as if they’d just entered. “Sorry we’re late,” he called. “Lottie misplaced her coat, and it took all of us ages to find it.”

The others jerked into motion and followed him down the aisle.

Richard and Faith exchanged a swift look. Judging by their identical blushes, both realized they’d had a wide-eyed audience for some little time.

For her part, Melissa assumed an expression of utter obliviousness, and as far as she saw, her cousins did the same.

Richard cleared his throat. “As I understand we have you four to thank for the appearance of this quite exceptional instrument, your tardiness is, on this occasion, excused.”

Faith smiled. “We’ve only just finished tuning it, but it has a wonderful tone.”

Melissa returned her smile. “Lovely.” She looked at Richard. “Shall we get on?”

He met her eyes briefly, then turned to the organ. “I would like to get your opinion of my rendition of the two carols you taught me yesterday.”

He sat at the organ, arranged newly transcribed sheets before him, then set his fingers to the keys and played.

“Hark! The Herald Angels Sing” and “This Endris Night” had never sounded so magical.

When the final chord of “This Endris Night” faded and, brows arching, Richard looked at Melissa, she smiled in sincere delight. “That was absolutely perfect.”

“Good.” Richard looked at Faith. “We can add the harp accompaniment once we’ve perfected the choral parts.” He glanced at them all and raised his brows. “Shall we?”

They took their previously defined positions around the organ, and Richard led them through the two carols. He proved a stickler for musical precision and had them repeat each carol until not a single note was even fractionally late, much less flat.

At last, he was satisfied. “I believe we can say we have at least two carols in our repertoire.” He paused, then grimaced. “Sadly, two carols do not a carol service make. As I understand it, to deliver the traditional village carol service, we need at least eight in total.”

“Two is a start,” Jamie observed.

“And luckily, we all know most of the carols,” George pointed out. “We can practice singing them without the organ. Then when we find the book, we’ll just have to put everything together and polish our delivery, and all will be right on the day.”

Richard looked as if he wished he could share their optimism.

Melissa volunteered, “We now know the book of carols isn’t with either the Swindons or Mrs. Woolsey. We only have two more places to search—it must be with either the rector of East Wellow or at Dutton Grange.”

“It won’t take us much longer to hunt down the book,” Jamie said, his tone determined.

“And then,” Lottie put in, “we’ll have to decide which eight carols to sing.”

Her serious tone made everyone smile, which, judging from Lottie’s small swift grin, had been her intention.

Young as she is, Melissa thought, she knows how to help people along.

“Never fear.” Jamie struck a crusader’s pose. “We will find the book of carols and save the carol service from being far too short.”

“And dull,” George said. “Definitely dull, even with our singing.”

Richard had to smile. Faith, Melissa noted, watched him, her gaze soft and faintly concerned.

“There’s no reason for dejection,” Melissa said as she rewound her scarf about her throat. “We still have a full week before the carol service. That’s more than enough time to track down one book, especially in such a small village.”

Richard hesitated, but then inclined his head. He looked at Faith. “Are you free to work on the harp accompaniment to ‘Hark! The Herald Angels’ now?”

Faith nodded. “Yes. I can stay for a while longer.”

Melissa smiled and bade the pair farewell and, smiling even more definitely once she’d turned away, led her cousins out of the church.

That afternoon, after much discussion over the luncheon table, Melissa, Jamie, George, and Lottie persuaded their grandmother that, in furtherance of their hunt for the book of carols, it was imperative they visit Dutton Grange.

Having secured the loan of the harp and having heard what they and their voices could create with just two popular carols had strengthened their determination to unearth the book, and the realization that only a week remained before the carol service lent urgency to their quest.

Melissa hadn’t visited Dutton Grange before. Although, apparently, the Grange was close—just down the manor drive, across the lane, and up the Grange’s winding drive—her grandmother, who these days walked with a cane that she sometimes even used, insisted on taking the gig. Melissa’s cousins laughed and ran ahead; smiling at their carefree state, she was tempted to follow, but decided that the dignity of her years required that she accompany her grandmother in the gig.

“Here.” Already settled on the seat, her grandmother held out the reins as Melissa clambered up. “You drive.”

Taking the reins—feeling honored to be trusted in even such a minor way—she sat, arranged the reins in her hands, then released the brake and concentrated on guiding the plodding mare along.

After an uneventful and untaxing journey, she drew the gig to a halt in the forecourt before the front porch of the Grange. A stable boy, apparently having been summoned by George and Jamie, was waiting to take the reins. He bobbed his head to Melissa and her grandmother. “Miss. Your ladyship.”

Jamie came to help their grandmother down.

“We’re likely to be an hour or so,” she said to the stable boy.

“Aye, ma’am,” the lad returned. “We’ll keep her in the yard. Send when you’re ready, and I’ll bring her around.”

Melissa walked up the porch steps beside her grandmother. George had beaten Jamie to the bellpull; as Melissa stepped onto the porch, the door opened to reveal a mountain of a man in a tweed coat rather than the customary butler’s garb.

“Good morning, Hendricks,” her grandmother said. “Are your master and mistress receiving?”

The mountain smiled. “I believe so, your ladyship, but please come in, and I’ll endeavor to rally them.”

Her grandmother chuckled, and Melissa followed her inside. As Hendricks showed them into a lovely drawing room, Melissa reflected that the more relaxed manners that prevailed in the village were refreshing.

Soon, she was making her curtsy to Eugenia Longfellow, a lovely young matron who was cradling a gurgling baby in her arms. Eugenia’s husband, Christian, Lord Longfellow, followed her into the room; he greeted the boys and Lottie with cheerful ease, ruffling the boys’ hair and smoothing his hand over Lottie’s head.

Lottie caught his hand and grinned up into his scarred face. “You haven’t met our cousin, Melissa, before.”

“No, indeed.” Lord Longfellow looked at Melissa and smiled warmly. “Welcome to Dutton Grange, Miss…”

Melissa found herself returning his smile. “North. But please”—she included Eugenia with a glance—“call me Melissa.”

Within minutes, as they all settled, not to say sprawled, in the comfortable chairs and sofas, Melissa realized that of all the houses in the village, this was the household her grandmother and her cousins felt most…not so much at home in as attuned with. Even the children were encouraged to call their host and hostess by their first names, although ingrained manners being what they were, the boys and Lottie instinctively reverted to “sir” and “ma’am.”

Undemanding, inclusive warmth was very much a feature of Dutton Grange.

Eugenia held out the baby—Cedric, apparently only a few months old—to Lottie. “He was awake, so I thought you might like to hold him.”

Seated on the sofa between Melissa and Eugenia, Lottie looked uncertain.

Very accustomed to taking charge of infant cousins, Melissa held out her arms. “I’ll hold him, and you can entertain him.”

Smiling again, Lottie nodded. Melissa carefully settled the baby in her arms, angled so that Lottie could chatter to the tiny person.

Therese looked on approvingly as, with Lottie absorbed, Melissa spoke with Eugenia over Lottie’s head, readily answering Eugenia’s queries as to how long she expected to be in the village and where she normally lived.

As Therese and the children had visited the Grange only days before, the talk quickly turned to their purpose in calling.

“The church’s book of carols?” Jamie had broached the subject with Christian, who now looked across at Eugenia. “Yes, we had it, but the rector of St. Aloysius in East Wellow arrived in pursuit of it, sent on by Deacon Filbert.”

Eugenia nodded. “We put the book of carols into his—the rector’s—hands.”

The children sighed. George asked, albeit with little hope, “And the rector definitely took the book with him? He didn’t leave it here?”

Eugenia regarded George in faint amusement. “Yes, he definitely took it away. I gathered that the entire purpose of his trip to Little Moseley had been to fetch the book—he wouldn’t have left without it.”

“Well,” Jamie said in more bracing fashion, “that just means we’ll need to travel to East Wellow and call on the rector and see if he still has the book.”

“I take it”—Christian looked from face to face—“that your search is occasioned by the upcoming carol service.”

“Yes,” George said. “We need the book so Mr. Mortimer can play—if we can’t find the book, he won’t be able to play, and the village won’t have a carol service.”

“Great heavens!” Eugenia looked at Therese. “I hadn’t realized the book was so vital. I can’t recall Mrs. Goodes using it…” Eugenia broke off, then grimaced. “Well, she might not have used the book during the service, but presumably she’d already learned the carols from it.”

“Most likely,” Therese allowed. “But sadly, Mr. Mortimer, while a quite superlative organist playing-wise, needs the written music before him in order to deploy his genius. In short, he can’t play the required carols without the book, and if he can’t play…”

“Oh dear.” Eugenia looked at Christian. “I can’t remember—did the rector mention returning the book to the church?”

Christian shook his head. “Not that I recall.” He looked at Jamie. “Perhaps the rector still has the book, although I understood he only required it to copy three carols. That shouldn’t have taken long. It was weeks ago that he had the book from us.”

Jamie grimaced. “He could have brought it back to the church and put it on the vestry shelf, and someone else might have borrowed it.” He looked at George, then at Lottie and Melissa. “We might have to ask around more widely.”

The four looked rather cast down. In an attempt to lighten their mood, Therese caught Eugenia’s eye. “One improvement to the carol service brought about through all the searching is that we’ve discovered a harpist—Miss Collison, who is Major Swindon’s niece and has come to live with them while her parents are abroad. And while searching for the book of carols in the music room at Fulsom Hall, the children uncovered a harp that was apparently unused and gathering dust.”

Eugenia’s eyes lit. “Mama’s harp.”

“So Mrs. Woolsey informed us. We asked, and she agreed that the church could borrow the instrument. I understand it’s been restrung, retuned, and is now sitting in pride of place beside the organ in the church. I told Ermintrude I would mention the loan to you in case you had any reservations.”

“No. None at all.” Eugenia was all smiles. “I’m delighted to know Mama’s favorite instrument will be played again.”

“In that case,” Therese replied, “you will have even more reason to look forward to the carol service. Miss Collison—Faith—will be joining with Mr. Mortimer in playing the accompaniment to the carols.”

“How lovely!” Eugenia said. “I will, indeed, look forward to hearing that.”

Cedric had fallen asleep, and Lottie’s mind had wandered. Frowning, she asked, “When is the Nativity play? Will it be held again this year?”

Christian smiled. “You mean the village pageant, which includes the re-enactment of the Nativity scene. Yes, indeed—it’s a village tradition, too—but this year, we’ve moved it ahead of the carol service. The pageant will be held as usual on the village green at eleven o’clock next Wednesday.”

“Will Duggins be there?” George asked. To Melissa, he explained, “He’s the Grange’s donkey and played the role of the donkey who carried Mary to the stable.”

“‘Played’ being the operative word.” Christian shook his head in mock morose resignation. “I fear Duggins remains the only donkey in the parish, and so his services will, indeed, be required again this year. We can only hope that, after his efforts last year, he’ll stick to his lines rather better.”

The children laughed and asked about the village youngsters who might be selected to play the various roles. Courtesy of their sojourn in the village the previous year, they were acquainted with many of the younger inhabitants.

“Actually”—Eugenia exchanged a glance with Christian, then shifted on the sofa to meet Melissa’s eyes—“I heard your little choir singing this morning while I was walking Cedric past the church, and I had a thought which I mentioned to Christian, who’s helping organize the pageant this year.” Eugenia included Lottie, Jamie, and George with her gaze. “Your combined voices sounded so lovely, I wondered if we might persuade you and Mr. Mortimer to add an extra appearance to your season’s calendar. If you could manage a short a cappella performance during the pageant, perhaps as the angels’ chorus given how very like angels your choir sounds, it would add another layer of wonderment to the re-enactment.”

“That,” Therese declared, lightly tapping her cane on the floor, “is an excellent idea!”

Both Jamie’s and George’s faces lit. “Yes!” Jamie said. “Why not? We have to practice every day, anyway.”

“And,” George said, “Mr. Mortimer has the music for lots of other pieces—not carols—that we could use. When we tidied the vestry music shelf, I saw the sheets for some choruses and triumphals. There’s sure to be some that would fit.”

Lottie tugged Melissa’s sleeve and, when Melissa looked down, asked, “What does a cappella mean?”

“It means singing without any instruments accompanying,” Melissa explained.

“Oh.” Lottie looked intrigued. “So it will be just our voices.”

Melissa nodded.

“Have you sung that way before?” Lottie asked.

“No.”

Watching her elder granddaughter, for a moment, Therese wondered if she would balk, but then Melissa looked at Jamie and George and said what, for their family, were the magic words. “It will be a new challenge.”

To Therese’s continuing delight, Melissa raised her gaze to Therese’s face and said, “I’m sure if we put our minds to it, we can persuade Mr. Mortimer and Faith to agree.”