easant to her
to see her old friend unreserved and cordial once more. The seven months'
baby was very tiny and very red, but 'handsome is that handsome does'--he
was pronounced to be 'doing well', and Mrs. Hackit went home gladdened at
heart to think that the perilous hour was over.

Chapter 8

The following Wednesday, when Mr. and Mrs. Hackit were seated comfortably
by their bright hearth, enjoying the long afternoon afforded by an early
dinner, Rachel, the housemaid, came in and said,--'If you please 'm, the
shepherd says, have you heard as Mrs. Barton's wuss, and not expected to
live?'

Mrs. Hackit turned pale, and hurried out to question the shepherd, who,
she found, had heard the sad news at an ale-house in the village. Mr.
Hackit followed her out and said, 'Thee'dst better have the pony-chaise,
and go directly.'

'Yes,' said Mrs. Hackit, too much overcome to utter any exclamations.
'Rachel, come an' help me on wi' my things.'

When her husband was wrapping her cloak round her feet in the
pony-chaise, she said,--'If I don't come home to-night, I shall send back
the pony-chaise, and you'll know I'm wanted there.'

'Yes, yes.'

It was a bright frosty day, and by the time Mrs. Hackit arrived at the
Vicarage, the sun was near its setting. There was a carriage and pair
standing at the gate, which she recognized as Dr Madeley's, the physician
from Rotherby. She entered at the kitchen door that she might avoid
knocking, and quietly question Nanny. No one was in the kitchen, but,
passing on, she saw the sitting-room door open, and Nanny, with Walter in
her arms, removing the knives and forks, which had been laid for dinner
three hours ago.

'Master says he can't eat no dinner,' was Nanny's first word. 'He's never
tasted nothin' sin' yesterday mornin', but a cup o' tea.'

'When was your missis took worse?'

'O' Monday night. They sent for Dr Madeley i' the middle o' the day
yisterday, an' he's here again now.'

'Is the baby alive?'

'No, it died last night. The children's all at Mrs. Bond's. She come and
took 'em away last night, but the master says they must be fetched soon.
He's up-stairs now, wi' Dr Madeley and Mr. Brand.'

At this moment Mrs. Hackit heard the sound of a heavy, slow foot, in the
passage; and presently Amos Barton entered, with dry despairing eyes,
haggard and unshaven. He expected to find the sitting-room as he left it,
with nothing to meet his eyes but Milly's work-basket in the