elve children; "it
would be a heavy expense. But I never like to stick at a thing when
it ought to be done. I think I shall send a fellow after them."

"I'll go," said Johnny.

"How can you go?"

"I'll make old Snuffle give me leave."

"But will that lessen the expense?" said Mr. Walker.

"Well, yes, I think it will," said John, modestly.

"My nephew is a rich man, Mr. Walker," said Toogood.

"That alters the case," said Mr. Walker. And thus, before they left
the dining-room, it was settled that John Eames should be taught
his lesson and should seek both Mrs. Arabin and Dr. Arabin on their
travels.

CHAPTER XLI

Grace Crawley at Home

On the morning after his return from London Mr. Crawley showed
symptoms of great fatigue, and his wife implored him to remain in
bed. But this he would not do. He would get up, and go out down to
the brickfields. He had specially bound himself,--he said, to see
that the duties of the parish did not suffer by being left in his
hands. The bishop had endeavoured to place them in other hands, but
he had persisted in retaining them. As had done so he could allow
no weariness of his own to interfere,--and especially no weariness
induced by labours undertaken on his own behalf. The day in the week
had come round on which it was his wont to visit the brickmakers, and
he would visit them. So he dragged himself out of his bed and went
forth amidst the cold storm of a harsh wet March morning. His wife
well knew when she heard his first word on that morning that one of
those terrible moods had come upon him which made her doubt whether
she ought to allow him to go anywhere alone. Latterly there had been
some improvement in his mental health. Since the day of his encounter
with the bishop and Mrs. Proudie, though he had been as stubborn
as ever, he had been less apparently unhappy, less depressed in
spirits. And the journey to London had done him good. His wife had
congratulated herself on finding him able to set about his work like
another man, and he himself had experienced a renewal, if not of
hope, at any rate, of courage, which had given him a comfort which he
had recognised. His common-sense had not been very striking in his
interview with Mr. Toogood, but yet he had talked more rationally then
and had given a better account of the matter in hand than could have
been expected from him for some weeks previously. But now the labour
was over, a reaction had come upon him, and h