rembling all the time through
every stem and leaf!

As I passed the entrance gate at the farther end of the Hall grounds a
carriage was leaving it, and I caught sight of an old gentleman sitting
alone within. I guessed him to be the owner of the place and dubbed
him the Squire, and I was right, except as to the title, which I find
he disavows.

I must have dawdled away more time than I realised, for they were well
on with the prayers when I entered the church, but I will guard against
that in future, for I pride myself on my methodical and punctual
habits. But hurrying makes one hot, and churches are often chilly, as
this one was! I was glad when the service was over and I could get out
into the sunshine again.

The squire's carriage passed me on its homeward way soon after I had
left the church, but when I reached the cross-roads I saw that its
owner must have sent it forward and decided to continue the journey on
foot, for he was standing at the bend of the lane in conversation with
Farmer Goodenough.

The latter smiled as I approached and half raised his cap; and the
squire turned and saluted me with grave politeness.

"Mornin', Miss 'Olden, mornin'," said my landlord. "So you've
exchanged the 'eath for the 'assock, in a manner o' speakin'," and he
laughed loudly at his alliterative success. "Well, well, some must
pray an' some must work. 'There's a time for everything,' as t' Owd
Book says; that's it, isn't it, sir, eh?" and without waiting for an
answer Farmer Goodenough strode off. In a few seconds, however, he was
back.

"Excuse me, miss, but I should ha' made you two known to each other.
Miss 'Olden, this is Mr. Evans of the 'All, an' this is my new tenant,
sir; a lady from London, Miss 'Olden, who's taken the cottage for
twelve months for a sort of a whim, as far as I can make out." He
touched his cap, and turned on his heel once more.

The situation was amusing and a little embarrassing, but I was left in
no suspense. The old gentleman smiled and looked down into my eyes.
He is a fine old man, something over seventy years of age, I should
say, but very erect, with deep, rather cold eyes, surmounted by bushy
eyebrows, and a head of thick, steely-grey hair. One glance at his
face told me that he was a man of intellect and culture.

"We may as well be companions, Miss Holden, if you do not object," he
said smilingly. "I should like to ascertain for myself whether the
village report is true,