dusted with their
sand--a sand that turns red upon ink, miss. And the time of dispatch
there is just what he would catch, by walking fast after his dig where
you saw him, going in that direction too, and then having his materials
ready to save time. And if all that is not enough to convince you,
miss--you remember that you told me our old sexton's tale?"

"To be sure I do. The first evening I was left alone here. And you have
been so kind, there is nothing I would hide from you."

"Well, miss, the time of old Jacob's tale is fixed by the death of poor
old Sally Mock; and the stranger came again after you were here, just
before the death of the miller's eldest daughter, and you might almost
have seen him. Poor thing! we all called her the 'flower of the Moon,'
meaning our little river. What a fine young woman she was, to be sure!
Whenever we heard of any strangers about, we thought they were prowling
after her. I was invited to her funeral, and I went, and nothing could
be done nicer. But they never will be punctual with burials here; they
like to dwell on them, and keep the bell going, for the sake of the
body, and the souls that must come after it. And so, when it was done, I
was twenty minutes late for the up mail and the cross-country post,
and had to move my hands pretty sharp, I can assure you. That doesn't
matter; I got through it, with the driver of the cart obliging, by means
of some beer and cold bacon. But what I feared most was the Nepheton
bag, having seen the old man at the funeral, and knowing what they do
afterward. I could not return him 'too late' again, or he would lose his
place for certain, and a shilling a day made all the difference to
him, between wife and no wife. The old pair without it must go to the
workhouse, and never see one another. However, when I was despairing
quite of him, up he comes with his bag quite correct, but only one
letter to sort in it, and that letter was, miss, the very identical of
the one you held in your hands just now. And a letter as like it as two
peas had come when we buried old Sally. It puzzled me then, but I had
no clew to it; only now, you see, putting this and that together, the
things we behold must have some meaning for us; and to let them go
without it is against the will of God; especially when at the bottom of
the bag."

"If you hear so soon of any stranger in the valley," I asked, to escape
the re-opening of the opening question, "how can that man come