ady Killiow discussing the petty question
of a lease, the scene and words flashed upon him together, and he grasped
the clue for which his brain had been searching yesterday while he
listened to old Mrs. Butson. It was Lady Killiow who called the lease a
'petty' one, and that word unlocked his memory. "This petty pace--

"To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time--
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death."

"I beg your pardon," said Lady Killiow, lifting her eyes to him in some
astonishment--for he had muttered a word or two--and meeting his fixed
stare. "You are not attending, I believe."

"Excuse me, my lady. It is true that I have not been well of late--and
that reminds me: in case of illness, my son will post down from Plymouth.
He holds himself ready at call. If I may say it, you will find him less
of a fool than he looks."

Lady Killiow put up her hands with a little laugh, half comfortable, half
wistful. "My good Mr. Rosewarne, I am a very old woman! In a short while
you may do as you like; but until I am gone, please understand that you
cannot possibly fall ill."

He bowed with a grave smile. Of his mistress's grateful affection he took
away these light words only: but they were enough.

He had thought by this visit to Damelioc to lay his demon of restlessness;
had supposed this monthly account of his stewardship, punctually rendered,
to be the business weighing on his mind. But no: as he passed out through
the park gates, the imp perched itself again behind his crupper, urging
him forward, tormenting him with the same vague sense of duty neglected
and clamorous.

Towards evening it grew so nearly intolerable that he had much ado to sit
patiently and preside at the School Board meeting, convened, as usual, in
the great parlour at Hall. All the Board was there: the Clerk, Mr. Benny,
and the six Managers; two Churchmen, three Dissenters, and himself--a
Gallio with a casting vote. He was used to reflecting cynically that
these opponents trusted him precisely because he cared less than a
tinker's curse for their creeds, and reconciled all religious differences
in a broad, impartial contempt. But to-night, as Parson Endicott
approached the crucial difficulty--the choice of a new teacher--with all
the wariness of a practised committee-man, laying his innocent parallels