waking till the clock struck five, and he rose up to go to his
labour.

"Betty Privett was as certain in her own mind that he did go out as she
was of her own existence, and was little less certain that he did not
return. She felt too disturbed to argue with him, and let the subject
drop as though she must have been mistaken. When she was walking down
Longpuddle Street later in the day she met Jim Weedle's daughter Nancy,
and said: 'Well Nancy, you do look sleepy to-day!'

"'Yes, Mrs Privett,' said Nancy. 'Now, don't tell anybody, but I don't
mind letting you know what the reason o't is. Last night, being Old
Midsummer Eve, some of us church porch, and didn't get home till near
one.'

"'Did ye?' says Mrs Privett. 'Old Midsummer yesterday was it? Faith, I
didn't think whe'r 'twas Midsummer or Michaelmas; I'd too much work to
do.'

"'Yes. And we were frightened enough, I can tell 'ee by what we saw.'

"'What did ye see?'

"(You may not remember, sir, having gone off to foreign parts so young,
that on Midsummer Night it is believed hereabout that the faint shapes
of all the folk in the parish who are going to be at death's door within
the year can be seen entering the church. Those who get over their
illness come out again after awhile; those that are doomed to die do not
return.)

"'What did you see?' asked William's wife.

"'Well,' says Nancy, backwardly--'we needn't tell what we saw or who we
saw.'

"'You saw my husband,' said Betty Privett in a quiet way.

"'Well, since you put it so,' says Nancy, hanging fire, 'we--thought we
did see him; but it was darkish and we was frightened, and of course it
might not have been he.'

"'Nancy, you needn't mind letting it out, though 'tis kept back in
kindness. And he didn't come out of the church again: I know it as well
as you.'

"Nancy did not answer yes or no to that, and no more was said. But three
days after, William Privett was mowing with John Chiles in Mr Hardcome's
meadow, and in the heat of the day they sat down to their bit o' nunch
under a tree, and empty their flagon. Afterwards both of 'em fell asleep
as they sat. John Chiles was the first to wake, and, as he looked
towards his fellow-mower, he saw one of those great white miller's-souls
as we call 'em--that is to say, a miller moth--come from William's open
mouth while he slept and fly straight away. John thought it odd enough,
as William had worked in a mill for several years when he was a boy. He