ated for her work--cleaning the church and washing the parson's
surplices. "I thought John was in the church here, and came to speak to
him; but he's not, I find; the door's locked."

"I saw John down by Mrs. Ram's just now; he was talking to Nott, the
carpenter," observed Alice. "Nancy, I was trying to make out some of
those old names; but it is difficult to do so," she added, pointing to
the crowded corner.

"Ay, I see, my dear," nodded Nancy. "_His_ be worn a'most right off. I
think I'd have it done again, an' I was you."

"Have what done again?"

"The name upon your poor papa's gravestone."

"The _what_?" exclaimed Alice. And Nancy repeated her words.

Alice stared at her. Had Mrs. Cale's wits vanished in her illness? "Do
you know what you are saying, Nancy?" she cried; "I don't. What had papa
to do with this place? I think you must be wandering."

Nancy stared in her turn. "Sure, it's not possible," she said slowly,
beginning to put two and two together, "that you don't know who you are,
Miss West? That your papa died here? and lies buried here?"

Alice West turned white, and sat down on the opposite bench to Nancy.
She did know that her father had died at some small country living he
held; but she never suspected that it was at Church Leet. Her mother had
gone to London after his death, and set up a school--which succeeded
well. But soon she died, and the ladies who took to the school before
her death took to Alice with it. The child was still too young to be
told by her mother of the serious past--or Mrs. West deemed her to be
so. And she had grown up in ignorance of her father's fate and of where
he died.

"When we heard, me and John, that it was a Miss West who had come to the
Hall to be governess to Parson Dancox's child, the name struck us both,"
went on Nancy. "Next we looked at your face, my dear, to trace any
likeness there might be, and we thought we saw it--for you've got your
papa's eyes for certain. Then, one day when I was dusting in here, I let
fall a hymn-book from the Hall pew; in picking it up it came open, and
the name writ in it stared me in the face, '_Alice_ West.' After that,
we had no manner of doubt, him and me, and I've often wished to talk
with you and tell you so. My dear, I've had you on my knee many a time
when you were a little one."

Alice burst into tears of agitation. "I never knew it! I never knew it.
Dear Nancy, what did papa die of?"

"Ah, that was a sad piece of bu