ll the gardener could tell us.

The village lay southward of the house. So to the village we went next.

XII

Our inquiries at Limmeridge were patiently pursued in all directions,
and among all sorts and conditions of people. But nothing came of
them. Three of the villagers did certainly assure us that they had
seen the woman, but as they were quite unable to describe her, and
quite incapable of agreeing about the exact direction in which she was
proceeding when they last saw her, these three bright exceptions to the
general rule of total ignorance afforded no more real assistance to us
than the mass of their unhelpful and unobservant neighbours.

The course of our useless investigations brought us, in time, to the
end of the village at which the schools established by Mrs. Fairlie
were situated. As we passed the side of the building appropriated to
the use of the boys, I suggested the propriety of making a last inquiry
of the schoolmaster, whom we might presume to be, in virtue of his
office, the most intelligent man in the place.

"I am afraid the schoolmaster must have been occupied with his
scholars," said Miss Halcombe, "just at the time when the woman passed
through the village and returned again. However, we can but try."

We entered the playground enclosure, and walked by the schoolroom
window to get round to the door, which was situated at the back of the
building. I stopped for a moment at the window and looked in.

The schoolmaster was sitting at his high desk, with his back to me,
apparently haranguing the pupils, who were all gathered together in
front of him, with one exception. The one exception was a sturdy
white-headed boy, standing apart from all the rest on a stool in a
corner--a forlorn little Crusoe, isolated in his own desert island of
solitary penal disgrace.

The door, when we got round to it, was ajar, and the school-master's
voice reached us plainly, as we both stopped for a minute under the
porch.

"Now, boys," said the voice, "mind what I tell you. If I hear another
word spoken about ghosts in this school, it will be the worse for all
of you. There are no such things as ghosts, and therefore any boy who
believes in ghosts believes in what can't possibly be; and a boy who
belongs to Limmeridge School, and believes in what can't possibly be,
sets up his back against reason and discipline, and must be punished
accordingly. You all see Jacob Postlethwaite standing up on th