stand by a town that'll swaller a Memory-o'-Me timekeeper an'
murder the old bell. You can say I was here, an' they needn't go to
muddyin' up the ponds; but as to their doin's, they can carry 'em out as
they may. I've no part nor lot in 'em."

Mary, in the weakness of her kind, was wiser than she knew. She drew her
arms about his neck, and clung to him the closer. All this talk of plots
and counter-plots seemed very trivial now that she had him back; and
being only a child, wearied with care and watching, she went fast
asleep on his shoulder. Nicholas felt tired too; but he thought he had
only dozed a little when he opened his eyes on a gleam of morning, and
saw the doctor come striding into the yard.

"Your door's open!" called the doctor. "You must be at home to callers.
Morning, Mary! Either of you sick?"

Mary, abashed, drew herself away, and slipped into the sitting-room, a
hand upon her tumbled hair; the doctor, wise in his honesty, slashed at
the situation without delay.

"See here, Mr. Oldfield," said he, "whether you've slept or not, you've
got to come right over to parson's with me, and straighten him out. He's
all balled up. You are as bad as the rest of us. You think we don't know
enough to refuse a clock like a comic valentine, and you think we don't
prize that old bell. How are we going to prize things if nobody tells us
anything about them? And here's the town going to pieces over a
celebration it hasn't sense enough to plan, just because you're so
obstinate. Oh, come along! Hear that! The boys are beginning to toot,
and fire off their crackers, and Tiverton's going to the dogs, and
Sudleigh'll be glad of it! Come, Mr. Oldfield, come along!"

Nicholas stood quite calmly looking through the window into the morning
dew and mist. He wore his habitual air of gentle indifference, and the
doctor saw in him those everlasting hills which persuasion may not
climb. Suddenly there was a rustling from the other room, and Mary
appeared in the doorway, standing there expectant. Her face was pink and
a little vague from sleep, but she looked very dear and good. Though
Nicholas had "lost himself" that night, he had kept time for thought;
and perhaps he realized how precious a thing it is to lay up treasure of
inheritance for one who loves us, and is truly of our kind. He turned
quite meekly to the doctor.

"Should you think," he inquired, "should you think pa'son would be up
an' dressed?"

Ten minutes thereafter,