Her low
spirits, headaches, general want of tone and vitality, puzzled him
at first; and would have puzzled him longer, had he not settled with
himself that their cause was to be sought in the mind, and not in the
body; and at last, gaining courage from certainty, he had hinted as
much to Miss Clara the night before, when she came down (as she was
very fond of doing) to have a gossip with him in his shop, under the
pretence of fetching medicine.

"I don't think I shall send Mrs. Vavasour any more, Miss Clara. There
is no use running up a long bill when I do no good; and, what is more,
suspect that I can do none, poor lady." And he gave the girl a look
which seemed to say, "You had better tell me the truth; for I know
everything already."

To which Clara answered by trying to find out how much he did know:
but Tom was a cunninger diplomatist than she; and in ten minutes,
after having given solemn promises of secresy, and having, by strong
expressions of contempt for Mrs. Heale and the village gossips, made
Clara understand that he did not at all take their view of the case,
he had poured out to him across the counter all Clara's long-pent
indignation and contempt.

"I never said a word of this to a living soul, sir; I was too proud,
for my mistress's sake, to let vulgar people know what we suffered.
We don't want any of their pity indeed; but you, sir, who have the
feelings of a gentleman, and know what the world is, like ourselves--"

"Take care," whispered Tom; "that daughter of Heale's may be
listening."

"I'd pull her hair about her ears if I caught her!" quoth Clara; and
then ran on to tell how Elsley "never kept no hours, nor no accounts
either; so that she has to do everything, poor thing; and no thanks
either. And never knows when he'll dine, or when he'll breakfast, or
when he'll be in, wandering in and out like a madman; and sits up all
night, writing his nonsense. And she'll go down twice and three times
a night in the cold, poor dear, to see if he's fallen asleep; and gets
abused like a pickpocket for her pains (which was an exaggeration);
and lies in bed all the morning, looking at the flies, and calls after
her if his shoes want tying, or his finger aches; as helpless as the
babe unborn; and will never do nothing useful himself, not even to
hang a picture or move a chair, and grumbles at her if he sees her
doing anything, because she ain't listening to his prosodies, and
snaps, and worrits, and won't