readiness was so full of the suggestion of
unheard of possibilities that it was a kind of shock.

"I have been twelve years in getting un-used to you--I feel as if it
would take twelve years more to get used again," she said.

"It won't take twelve weeks," said Betty.

CHAPTER XV

THE FIRST MAN

The mystery of the apparently occult methods of communication among
the natives of India, between whom, it is said, news flies by means too
strange and subtle to be humanly explainable, is no more difficult
a problem to solve than that of the lightning rapidity with which a
knowledge of the transpiring of any new local event darts through
the slowest, and, as far as outward signs go, the least communicative
English village slumbering drowsily among its pastures and trees.

That which the Hall or Manor House believed last night, known only
to the four walls of its drawing-room, is discussed over the cottage
breakfast tables as though presented in detail through the columns of
the Morning Post. The vicarage, the smithy, the post office, the
little provision shop, are instantaneously informed as by magic of such
incidents of interest as occur, and are prepared to assist vicariously
at any future developments. Through what agency information is given
no one can tell, and, indeed, the agency is of small moment. Facts of
interest are perhaps like flights of swallows and dart chattering from
one red roof to another, proclaiming themselves aloud. Nothing is
so true as that in such villages they are the property and innocent
playthings of man, woman, and child, providing conversation and drama
otherwise likely to be lacked.

When Miss Vanderpoel walked through Stornham village street she became
aware that she was an exciting object of interest. Faces appeared at
cottage windows, women sauntered to doors, men in the taproom of the
Clock Inn left beer mugs to cast an eye on her; children pushed open
gates and stared as they bobbed their curtsies; the young woman who kept
the shop left her counter and came out upon her door step to pick up
her straying baby and glance over its shoulder at the face with the red
mouth, and the mass of black hair rolled upward under a rough blue
straw hat. Everyone knew who this exotic-looking young lady was. She had
arrived yesterday from London, and a week ago by means of a ship from
far-away America, from the country in connection with which the rural
mind curiously mixed up large wages, great