A few minutes later the millionaire departed, George walking with him to the inn where his conveyance waited. Here also wise men were discussing the state of decadence towards which the parish was being hurried by moral failures like the Brocks and such a despicable plotter as the formerly respected Mr. Drake, who was undoubtedly scheming to construct that Dartmoor railway by means of American dollars. Mr. Jenkins was seen to drive away by the Gentle Shepherd, who reported the gratifying intelligence to headquarters, and a hearty sigh of relief went up while a quantity of inferior beer went down. Yet nobody sighed so deeply or so joyously as George as he hurried home a man of means at last. Rapture lost half its charm because there was nobody with whom it could be shared; for Nellie, he found, had retired with a headache, while Bessie, upon sentry duty near the bedroom door, repelled the advance of Miss Yard who was in tears because they would not let her in to see the poor girl's body. "I knew she would go like that. I told her she had a heart, because she was such a good girl, and they always go suddenly. I do hope you won't be the next, George. Of course you know poor Percy is gone," she wailed. "You were very good in your young days," said George gallantly, "but you are still alive. There's nothing much the matter with Percy, except that he's going to get married." "Take that woman away," snapped Miss Yard, "and make her stop growing. She gets worse every day." "I finished long ago, thankye, miss," said Bessie. "What a wicked story! She's done a lot since yesterday," complained Miss Yard. "Do let me have one peep at my dear little Nellie before they take her away." The young lady herself cried out and hoped they would all be taken away. Peace was restored, after Miss Yard had tumbled down happily, convinced that the age of miracles was not past. George woke the next morning with a sense of prosperity which required a safety valve when the inevitable letter from Mr. Hunter, who had now shrunk icily into a solitary initial beneath the signature Cross and Martin, announced, "the probate of your late aunt's will has been granted, and you are now at liberty to draw cheques against the balance of two hundred pounds lying in the bank." George felt sufficiently healthy to dig potatoes, make love, or perform any other menial act. He ate a huge breakfast, then climbed into an apple tree and whistled for half an hour: Miss Yard, sitting at the window, declared she had never heard the blackbirds sing so beautifully. While thus relieving his high spirits a light carriage could be heard approaching; its wheels rattled down the hill; the driver shouted to the horse; and the conveyance drew up beside the garden gate. "Here's another millionaire!" George chuckled, as he dropped from the branches. But there was nobody except the driver, whom George recognised as belonging to the principal hotel of the neighbouring town.