ss with Mr. Todd was evident to all who came in contact with him,
both before and after the Vicar's departure. His former geniality seemed
to have quite deserted him, and he looked worried, anxious, and ill. The
ladies of S. Athanasius were greatly concerned at the change, and
speculated wildly as to its cause. There was one among them, however,
who made no comment upon the subject, and appeared, in fact, to ignore
the curate's existence altogether. Whatever might be the source of that
gentleman's troubles, he had, at any rate, freed himself from the
unwelcome advances of Miss Caroline Cope.

The third morning after the Vicar's departure, his assistant was sent
for to visit a sick parishioner who lived just outside Great Wabbleton,
on the high road to Grubley. The summons was an imperative one; but he
obeyed it with a curious and unwonted reluctance. As he reached the
outskirts of the town and struck into the Grubley road, his distaste
for his errand seemed to increase, and he looked uneasily from side to
side with a strange, furtive glance, in singular contrast to his usual
steady gaze and cheerful smile. He reached his destination, however,
without adventure, and remained for some time at the invalid's bedside.
His return journey was destined to be more eventful. He had not
proceeded far on his way back to Great Wabbleton, when a showily-dressed
woman, who was passing him on the road, stopped short and regarded him
with a prolonged and half-puzzled stare that ended in a sudden cry of
amazed recognition. "Well--I'm blest--it's Tommy!"

[Illustration: "IT'S TOMMY!"]

She was a buxom, and by no means unattractive, person of about
five-and-thirty, with an irresistibly "horsey" suggestion about her
appearance and gait. As the curate's eye met hers, he turned deadly
pale, and his knees trembled beneath him. That which he had dreaded for
days and nights had come to pass.

"Well, I'm blest!" said the lady again, "who'd have thought of meeting
you here after all these years--and in this make-up, too! But I should
have known you among a thousand, all the same. Why, Tommy, you don't
mean to say they've gone and made a parson of you?"

The curate was desperate. His first impulse was to deny all knowledge of
the woman who stood gazing into his face with a comical expression of
mingled amusement and surprise. But her next words showed him the
hopelessness of such a course.

"You're not going to say you don't know me, Tommy, t