lose formation shoulder to shoulder. They only waited. An
instant's yielding on her part, and they would be on to her, crushing
down and in, making her brain reel, her mind stagger under their stifling
crowded assault.

"Go back and row," she said, at once imploring and imperious. "Row
quickly. I am very tired. I am cold. I want to be at home--to be in my
own place."

CHAPTER VI

RECOUNTING AN ASTONISHING DEPOSITION

Theresa Bilson bustled upstairs. Barring the absence of the extra brake,
which had caused--and for this she could not be sorry since didn't it
justify her "attitude" towards her recalcitrant ex-pupil?--some
inconvenient overcrowding in transit to and from the station, and barring
the rain, which set in between five and six o'clock, the expedition to
Harchester passed off with considerable _eclat_. Such, in any case, was
Theresa's opinion, she herself having figured conspicuously in the
foreground. During the inspection of the Cathedral the Dean paid her
quite marked attention; thanks, in part, to her historical and
archaeological knowledge--of which she made the most, and to her
connection with the Verity family--of which she made the most also. In
precisely what that connection might consist, the learned and timid old
gentleman, being very deaf and rather near-sighted, failed to gather. He
determined, however, to be on the safe side.

"Our genial Archdeacon," he said, "and his distinguished kinsman, Sir
Charles? Ah! yes--yes--indeed--to be sure--with the greatest pleasure."

And he motioned the blushing Theresa to fall into step with him, and with
Dr. Horniblow, at the head of the Deadham procession.

The afterglow of that triumphal progress irradiated her consciousness
still, when--after depositing the Miss Minetts upon their own doorstep,
with playful last words recalling the day's mild jokes and rallyings--she
drove on to The Hard to find the household there in a state of sombre and
most admired confusion.

Thus to arrive home in possession of a fine bag of news, only to
discover an opposition and far finer bag ready awaiting you may well
prove trying to the most high-souled and amiable of temper. By this time,
between success and fatigue, Theresa could not be justly described as
either high-souled or sweet tempered. She was at once inflated and on
edge, and consequently hotly indignant, as though the unfairest march
possible had been stolen upon her.

She bustled upstairs, and crossi