e anything of a boy."

"Dear me!" said the vicar, smiling, "that is very severe; I hope all
boys are not so bad as that!"

"It is greatly, I believe, owing to the unnatural manner in which they
are fed," she continued, turning away from Ambrose. "Most wickedness
comes from eating meat. Violence, and cruelty, and bloodthirstiness
would vanish if men lived on fruit and vegetables."

"Do you think so?" said the vicar mildly; "but women are not as a rule
cruel and bloodthirsty, and they eat meat too."

"Women are naturally better than men, and it does not do them so much
harm; but they would be still better without it. It makes them selfish
and gross," said Miss Barnicroft.

Mr Hawthorne never encouraged his visitor to argue long on this
subject, which somehow crept into all her conversations, however
far-away from it they might begin. So he merely bowed his head in
silence.

Miss Barnicroft rose with an air of having settled the question, but
suddenly sat down again and said with a short laugh:

"By the way, you have thieves in your parish."

"Really! I hope not," said the vicar.

Ambrose, who had retired to his former position on the rug, began to
listen intently. This sounded interesting.

"A month ago," she continued, "I put away some gold pieces for which I
had no use, and they have been stolen."

"Did you lock them up?" asked Mr Hawthorne.

"I did a safer thing than that," said Miss Barnicroft, laughing
contemptuously; "I buried them."

"In your garden?"

"No. I put them into a honey-jar and buried it in what, I believe, is
called the Roman Camp, not far from my house."

The words, spoken in Miss Barnicroft's clear cold tones, fell icily on
Ambrose's ear, and seemed to turn him to stone. He and David were
thieves! It was no antique vessel they had discovered, but a common
honey-pot; no Roman coins, but Miss Barnicroft's money. If only he had
done as David wished, and told his father long ago!

He clasped his hands closely over his scarlet face and listened for the
vicar's answer.

"I don't think you chose a very safe place to hide your money," he said.
"Gypsies and pedlars and tramps are constantly passing over Rumborough
Common. Someone probably saw you bury it there."

"I am more inclined to think that it was stolen by someone in the
parish," said Miss Barnicroft. "They were French napoleons," she added.

"Then you see they would be of no use to anyone living here, for they
could