But all the sights were not seen yet, and for the members of the little party who still adhered to the Knight-of-the-Garter research the best was yet to come, in St. George's Chapel. Entering at the door at the south front and crossing to the centre, the children passed directly into the choir, which is really a chapel in itself, and to them of special interest, because the very place where the ceremony of installing' the knights is performed. Harold led the way to the farther end, and they took their seats on the steps of the chancel. Behind them the light fell softly through the stained glass of the window over the altar; above them waved the knights' silken banners, and just below each banner hung the sword, mantle, and helmet of the knight whose crest it bore, mounted against a background of elaborate carving. It was of course the spot of spots for any one who, like Harold, had been initiated into all the mysteries by being present at an installation, and he did justice to the occasion. By this time even Donald, whose powers of endurance were not yet of the strongest, was content to sit by, an apparent listener; but much that Harold had to tell having little interest for him, he resorted to that little trick to which some discriminating ears readily lend themselves, of listening to what appealed to him and letting the rest go. With Albert matters were reversed. He had completely lapsed from his humble estate of the morning, when he felt in duty bound to at least pretend to be an attentive listener, and when they reached the chapel, already such a familiar place to him, he no longer even tried to keep up appearances. A great big collie belonging to the verger, Mr. Brown, sometimes made so bold as to steal in “unbeknownst” and curl up on the cool marble in a dark corner of the choir, and Albert, who knew the corner well, at once slipped away in the hope of finding him.