ud. But the Vicar was obdurately deaf. He strolled on with Rose, who
was chattering to him about a visit to Manchester, and the little
church gate clicked behind them. Hearing it, Mrs. Thornburgh relaxed her
measurements. They were only really interesting to her after all when
the Vicar was by. She hurried after them as fast as her short squat
figure would allow, and stopped midway to make an exclamation.

'A carriage!' she said, shading her eyes with a very plump hand,
'stopping at Greybarns!'

The one road of the valley was visible from the churchyard, winding
along the bottom of the shallow green trough, for at least two miles.
Greybarns was a farmhouse just beyond Burwood, about half a mile away.

Mrs. Thornburgh moved on, her matronly face aglow with interest.

'Mary Jenkinson taken ill!' she said. 'Of course, that's Doctor Baker!
Well, it's to be hoped it won't be _twins_ this time. But, as I told
her last Sunday, "It's constitutional, my dear." I knew a woman who had
three pairs! Five o'clock now. Well, about seven it'll be worth while
sending to inquire.'

When she overtook the Vicar and his companion, she began to whisper
certain particulars into the ear that was not on Rose's side. The Vicar,
who, like Uncle Toby, was possessed of a fine natural modesty, would
have preferred that his wife should refrain from whispering on these
topics in Rose's presence. But he submitted lest opposition should
provoke her into still more audible improprieties; and Rose walked on
a step or two in front of the pair, her eyes twinkling a little. At the
Vicarage gate she was let off without the customary final gossip. Mrs.
Thornburgh was so much occupied in the fate hanging over Mary Jenkinson
that she, for once, forgot to catechize Rose, as to any marriageable
young men she might have come across in a recent visit to a great
country-house of the neighborhood; an operation which formed the
invariable pendant to any of Rose's absences.

So, with a smiling nod to them both, the girl turned homeward. As she
did so she became aware of a man's figure walking along the space of
road between Graybarns and Burwood, the western light behind it.

Dr. Baker? But even granting that Mrs. Jenkinson had brought him five
miles on a false alarm, in the provoking manner of matrons, the shortest
professional visit could not be over in this time.

She looked again, shading her eyes. She was nearing the gate of Burwood,
and involuntarily slack