not very strong yet, and I was rather
exhausted yesterday."

"Mary thought you would like to go with her this morning, while she does
her district visiting."

"It's a beautiful morning, Jamie; it will do you good!" cried Mary.

"I should like it very much."

They started out. Mary wore her every-day costume--a serge gown, a
sailor hat, and solid, square-toed boots. She walked fast, with long
steps and firm carriage. James set himself to talk, asking her
insignificant questions about the people she visited. Mary answered with
feeling and at length, but was interrupted by arriving at a cottage.

"You'd better not come in here," she said, blushing slightly; "although
I want to take you in to some of the people. I think it will be a lesson
to them."

"A lesson in what?"

"Oh, I can't tell you to your face, I don't want to make you conceited;
but you can guess while you're waiting for me."

Mary's patient was about to be confined, and thinking her condition
rather indecent, quite rightly, Mary had left James outside. But the
good lady, since it was all in the way of nature, was not so ashamed of
herself as she should have been, and insisted on coming to the door to
show Miss Clibborn out.

"Take care he doesn't see you!" cried Mary in alarm, pushing her back.

"Well, there's no harm in it. I'm a married woman. You'll have to go
through it yourself one day, miss."

Mary rejoined her lover, suffused in blushes, hoping he had seen
nothing.

"It's very difficult to teach these people propriety. Somehow the lower
classes seem to have no sense of decency."

"What's the matter?"

"Oh, nothing I can tell you," replied Mary, modestly. Then, to turn the
conversation: "She asked after my young man, and was very anxious to see
you."

"Was she? How did she know you had a young man?" asked James, grimly.

"Oh, everyone knows that! You can't keep secrets in Primpton. And
besides, I'm not ashamed of it. Are you?"

"I haven't got a young man."

Mary laughed.

They walked on. The morning was crisp and bright, sending a healthy
colour through Mary's cheeks. The blue sky and the bracing air made her
feel more self-reliant, better assured than ever of her upright purpose
and her candid heart. The road, firm underfoot and delightful to walk
upon, stretched before them in a sinuous line. A pleasant odour came
from the adjoining fields, from the farm-yards, as they passed them; the
larks soared singing with happy heart, w