a darling--but a mystery!"

They had met at college, taken their farm training together, and fallen
in love with each other. Janet had scarcely a relation in the world.
Rachel possessed, it seemed, a brother in Canada, another in South
Africa, and some cousins whom she scarcely knew, children of the uncle
who had left her three thousand pounds. Each had been attracted by the
loneliness of the other, and on leaving college nothing was more natural
than they should agree to set up together. Rachel, as the capitalist, was
to choose the farm and take command. Janet went to a Cheshire dairy farm
for a time to get some further training in practical work; and she was
now responsible for the dairy at Great End, with the housekeeping and the
poultry thrown in. She was a thin, tall woman with spectacles, and had
just seen her thirty-second birthday. Her eyes were honest and clear, her
mouth humorous. She never grudged other women their beauty or their
success. It always seemed to her she had what she deserved.

Meanwhile the vicar approached, and Miss Leighton descended the steps and
went to meet him at the gate. His aspect showed him apologetic.

"I have come at an unearthly hour, Miss Leighton. But I thought I should
have no chance of finding Miss Henderson free till the evening, and I
came to tell you that I think I have found a woman to do your work."

Janet bade him come in, and assured him that Rachel would soon be
visible. She ushered him into the sitting-room, which he entered on a
note of wonderment.

"How nice you have made it all," he said, looking round him. "When I
think what a deserted hole this has been for years. You know, the village
people firmly believe it is haunted? Old Wellin never could get anybody
to sleep here. But tramps often used it, I'm certain. They got in through
the windows. Hastings told me he had several times found a smouldering
fire in the kitchen."

"What sort is the ghost?" Janet inquired, as she pointed him to a chair,
devoutly hoping that Rachel would hurry herself.

"Well, there's a story--but I wonder whether I ought to tell you--"

"I assure you as to ghosts--I have no nerves!" said Janet with a
confident laugh, "and I don't think Rachel has either. We are more
frightened of rats. This farm-yard contains the biggest I've ever seen.
I dream of them at night."

"It's not exactly the ghost--" said the vicar, hesitating.

"But the story that produced the ghost? What--a murder?"