ctive ignorance, pride, laziness, and superstition of the
little town showed a terrible front to the newcomer.

"Does he think we was all fools afore he came here?"

That was the rallying cry of the enemy, and sanitary reform was thrust
out of sight.

But Lord Minchampstead, who owned the neighbouring estates of
Pentremochyn, on Mark Armsworth's advice, got Tom to make a report on
the sanitary state of his cottages, and then acted on the information.

Frank Headley backed up Tom in his sanitary crusade, the coastguard
lieutenant proved an unexpected ally, and Grace Harvey promised that she
would do all she could.

Tom wrote up to London and detailed the condition of the place to the
General Board of Health, and the Board returned, for answer, that, as
soon as cholera broke out in Aberalva, they would send down an
inspector.

Then in August it came, and Tom Beer, the fisherman, and one of the
finest fellows in the town, was dead after two hours' illness.

Up and down the town the foul fiend sported, now here, now there,
fleshing his teeth on every kind of prey. He has taken old Beer's second
son, and now clutches at the old man himself; then across the street to
Jan Beer, his eldest; but he is driven out from both houses by chloride
of lime, and the colony of the Beers has peace awhile. The drunken
cobbler dies, of course; but spotless cleanliness and sobriety do not
save the mother of seven children, who has been soaking her brick floor
daily with water from a poisoned well, defiling where she meant to
clean. Youth does not save the buxom lass who has been filling herself
with unripe fruit.

And yet sots and fools escape where wise men fall; weakly women, living
amid all wretchedness, nurse, unharmed, strong men who have breathed
fresh air all day.

Headley and Grace and old Willis, and last, but not least, Tom Thurnall,
these and three or four brave women, organised themselves into a band,
and commenced at once a visitation from house to house, saving thereby
many a life. But within eight-and-forty hours it was as much as they
could do to attend to the acute cases.

Grace often longed to die, but knew that she should not die till she had
found Tom's belt, and was content to wait.

Tom just thought nothing about death and danger at all, but, always
cheerful, always busy, yet never in a hurry, went up and down, seemingly
ubiquitous. Sleep he got when he could, and food as often as he could;
into the sea he