boured the
maid--that's what we used to call them in England--and the time has
come, I think, to do something about it."

"I see. Yes, the position is a difficult one. How did she come to the
village in the first place? She was not born there, then?"

"No, sir, I am thankful to say, unless greatly and cruelly deceived.
The manner of her coming, or rather of her being found, was this; the
young person who has charge of her, who is now about twenty-three by
all counts, has always been light headed, and cannot or will not,
explain clearly who she is or where she comes from. All we know of her
is that she came here with the child one stormy night in the middle of
winter, just like the stage or a story book, appearing at the Rectory
and carrying an anonymous letter begging for shelter and charity. Mr.
Abercorn found them--it was on Christmas Eve--and he took them in to
his wife and she to the kitchen. The girl was a pretty dark-haired
slip of fifteen or so, with the light manner and the gay laugh you may
have noticed, gay but empty, and could give no account of herself; the
child not as bad as she has since grown to be, but already strange
looking, and some thought as stupid as the girl."

An exclamation of dismay escaped from Ringfield.

"Better if it had been!" he cried.

"Well, I may say that I agree with you, sir. The rector and his wife
got a home for them in the village, and although we have learned
something about them it is very little, and as the money for their
support comes from here, I thought it time, sir, to look more
thoroughly into the affair."

"From here? You are sure?"

Ringfield was ready to defend, even shield, Miss Clairville if
necessary.

"It was brought or sent by one of the servants at the Manor House out
by the lake. Without fear of exaggeration, sir, I may state that we
'ave long known this to be the case; Antoine Archambault, the young man
around this room not ten minutes ago, is the bearer, and he, I suppose,
knows all about it--the girl is apparently his sister, or in some way
related to him--but I wouldn't care to talk to him about it and so,
sir, I come to you."

"But I know nothing!" exclaimed Ringfield, rising. "Nothing whatever,
not nearly as much as you do. It is no use speaking to me upon the
matter. I cannot assist you in the least. What do you propose to do?"

"Why," said Enderby, flushing a darker red and rising ponderously,
"this is what we propose to do, fo