ve it," she answered. "The
man came here last night and Sabina wouldn't see him, and God knows
what'll be the next thing."

"Leave the next thing to me."

"She's given notice at the works. He told her to."

"Of course--quite properly. Now calm down and fetch me my walking
boots."

In half an hour Ernest was on his way to Bridport. As Sabina, before
him, his instinct led to Miss Ironsyde and he felt that the facts might
best be imparted to her. If anybody had influence with Raymond, it was
she. His tone of confidence before Mrs. Dinnett had been partly assumed,
however. His sympathies were chiefly with Sabina, for she was no
ordinary mill hand; she had enjoyed his tuition and possessed native
gifts worthy of admiration. But she was as excitable as her mother, and
if this vital matter went awry, there could be no doubt that her life
must be spoiled.

Mr. Churchouse managed to get a lift on his way from a friendly farmer,
and he arrived at Bridport Town Hall soon after ten o'clock. While
driving he put the matter from his mind for a time, and his acquaintance
started other trains of thought. One of them, more agreeable to a man of
his temperament than the matter in hand, still occupied his mind when he
stood before Jenny Ironsyde.

"You!" she said. "I had an idea you never came into the world till
afternoon."

"Seldom--seldom. I drove a good part of the way with Farmer Gate, and he
made a curious remark. He said that a certain person might as well be
dead for all the good he was. Now what constitutes life? I've been
asking myself that."

"It's certainly difficult to decide about some people, whether they're
alive or dead. Some make you doubt if they ever were alive."

"A good many certainly don't know they're born; and plenty don't know
they're dead," he declared.

"To be in your grave is not necessarily to be dead, and to be in your
shop, or office, needn't mean that you're alive," admitted the lady.

"Quite so. Who doesn't know dead people personally, and go to tea with
them, and hear their bones rattle? And whose spirit doesn't meet in
their thoughts, or works, the dead who are still living?"

"Most true, I'm sure; but you didn't come to tell me that?"

"No; yet it has set me wondering whether, perhaps, I am dead--at any
rate deader than I need be."

"We are probably all deader than we need be."

"But to-day there has burst into my life a very wakening thing. It may
have been sent. For mystery is eve