he murmured tenderly.
"I'll come to-morrow about this time."

CHAPTER VII: SECOND THOUGHTS

The next morning the vicar rose early. The first thing he did was to
write a long and careful letter to his friend in Yorkshire. Then, eating
a little breakfast, he crossed the meadows in the direction of
Casterbridge, bearing his letter in his pocket, that he might post it at
the town office, and obviate the loss of one day in its transmission that
would have resulted had he left it for the foot-post through the village.

It was a foggy morning, and the trees shed in noisy water-drops the
moisture they had collected from the thick air, an acorn occasionally
falling from its cup to the ground, in company with the drippings. In
the meads, sheets of spiders'-web, almost opaque with wet, hung in folds
over the fences, and the falling leaves appeared in every variety of
brown, green, and yellow hue.

A low and merry whistling was heard on the highway he was approaching,
then the light footsteps of a man going in the same direction as himself.
On reaching the junction of his path with the road, the vicar beheld Dick
Dewy's open and cheerful face. Dick lifted his hat, and the vicar came
out into the highway that Dick was pursuing.

"Good-morning, Dewy. How well you are looking!" said Mr. Maybold.

"Yes, sir, I am well--quite well! I am going to Casterbridge now, to get
Smart's collar; we left it there Saturday to be repaired."

"I am going to Casterbridge, so we'll walk together," the vicar said.
Dick gave a hop with one foot to put himself in step with Mr. Maybold,
who proceeded: "I fancy I didn't see you at church yesterday, Dewy. Or
were you behind the pier?"

"No; I went to Charmley. Poor John Dunford chose me to be one of his
bearers a long time before he died, and yesterday was the funeral. Of
course I couldn't refuse, though I should have liked particularly to have
been at home as 'twas the day of the new music."

"Yes, you should have been. The musical portion of the service was
successful--very successful indeed; and what is more to the purpose, no
ill-feeling whatever was evinced by any of the members of the old choir.
They joined in the singing with the greatest good-will."

"'Twas natural enough that I should want to be there, I suppose," said
Dick, smiling a private smile; "considering who the organ-player was."

At this the vicar reddened a little, and said, "Yes, yes," though not at
all compre