sed, of importance. Janet, possessed by vague, yet,
as they seemed to herself, quite unreasonable anxieties, gave some
further scornful account of Dempsey's murder talk, to which Rachel
scarcely listened; then she said, as she turned to take up her
knitting,--

"I'm going over to-morrow to a little service--a Thanksgiving service--at
Millsborough. I took the girls to church to-day--but I love my own
people!" Her face glowed a little.

"Unitarian service, you mean?"

"Yes--we've got a little 'cause' there, and a minister. The service will
be about six, I think. The girls will manage. The minister and his wife
want me to stay to supper--but I shall be back in good time."

"About ten?"

"Oh, yes--quite by then. I shall bicycle."

Through Rachel's mind there passed a thrill of relief. So Janet would be
out of the way. One difficulty removed. Now, to get rid of the girls?

* * * * *

Rachel scarcely slept, and the November day broke grey and misty as
before. After breakfast she went out into the fields. Old Halsey was
mole-catching in one of them. But instead of going to inspect him and his
results, she slipped through a tall hedge, and paced the road under its
shelter, looking for Dempsey.

On the stroke of eleven she saw him in the distance. He came up with the
same look, half embarrassed, half inclining to laugh, that he had worn
the day before. Rachel, on the other hand, was entirely at her ease, and
the young man felt her at once his intellectual and social superior.

"You seem to have saved me and my horse from a tumble into that ditch
last night," she said, with a laugh, as she greeted him. "Why I turned
faint like that I can't imagine. I do sometimes when I'm tired. Well, now
then--let us walk up the road a little."

With her hands in her pockets she led the way. In her neat serge suit and
cap, she was the woman-farmer--prosperous and competent--all over.
Dempsey's thoughts threw back in bewilderment to the fainting figure of
the night before. He walked on beside her in silence.

"I wanted to tell you," said Miss Henderson calmly--"because I'm sure
you're a nice fellow, and don't want to hurt anybody's feelings--why
I asked you to hold your tongue about Mrs. Delane. In the first
place, you're quite mistaken about myself. I was never at Mr. Tanner's
farm--never in that part of Canada; and the person you saw there--Mrs.
Delane--was a very favourite cousin of mine, and extrao