Mount Dunstan.

"Yes, she is a creature of action. She has heard and understood at
once, and she has done something. It is immensely practical--it is
fine--it--it is lovable."

"Do you mind my keeping it?" Mount Dunstan asked, after he had read it.

"Keep it by all means," the vicar answered. "It is worth keeping."

But it was quite brief. She had heard of the outbreak of fever among the
hop pickers, and asked to be allowed to give help to the people who were
suffering. They would need prompt aid. She chanced to know something of
the requirements of such cases, and had written to London for certain
supplies which would be sent to them at once. She had also written for
nurses, who would be needed above all else. Might she ask Mr. Penzance
to kindly call upon her for any further assistance required.

"Tell her we are deeply grateful," said Mount Dunstan, "and that she has
given us greater help than she knows."

"Why not answer her note yourself?" Penzance suggested.

Mount Dunstan shook his head.

"No," he said shortly. "No."

CHAPTER XLII

IN THE BALLROOM

Though Dunstan village was cut off, by its misfortune, from its usual
intercourse with its neighbours, in some mystic manner villages even at
twenty miles' distance learned all it did and suffered, feared or hoped.
It did not hope greatly, the rustic habit of mind tending towards a
discouraged outlook, and cherishing the drama of impending calamity.
As far as Yangford and Marling inmates of cottages and farmhouses were
inclined to think it probable that Dunstan would be "swep away,"
and rumours of spreading death and disaster were popular. Tread, the
advanced blacksmith at Stornham, having heard in his by-gone, better
days of the Great Plague of London, was greatly in demand as a narrator
of illuminating anecdotes at The Clock Inn.

Among the parties gathered at the large houses Mount Dunstan himself
was much talked of. If he had been a popular man, he might have become
a sort of hero; as he was not popular, he was merely a subject for
discussion. The fever-stricken patients had been carried in carts to
the Mount and given beds in the ballroom, which had been made into a
temporary ward. Nurses and supplies had been sent for from London, and
two energetic young doctors had taken the place of old Dr. Fenwick, who
had been frightened and overworked into an attack of bronchitis which
confined him to his bed. Where the money came from, which must be spent