"Has the vicar been or sent?" he said, in husky tones, but assuming all the indifference possible. "No," said Mrs Jared; "I've been thinking about him all the morning. Isn't he late?" Jared thought he was, and said so. But all the same, he had not expected him, only a cheque for his last quarter's salary--money always heretofore paid to the day, though it was not likely that upon this occasion the vicar would follow out his old pleasant custom and bring the cheque himself. But Jared tried to persuade himself that even that was possible, for drowning men are said to clutch at straws, and Jared was drowning fast. He had kept his head above water a long time, but now all seemed at an end, and the waters of tribulation appeared about to close over him. Mrs Pellet and her daughter continued to be occupied in domestic affairs, while now, as if Jared's misery were not great enough, the straw seemed to be snatched from the drowning man as there came the terrible thought--Suppose that the vicar should not send at all? suppose that, taking into consideration how he had refrained from prosecuting, he should consider the quarter's salary as forfeited? Not a heavy sum certainly, but to Jared the want of it would be ruin piled upon ruin, a cruel heel crushing the head already in the dust. "They told me to clear myself, to prove that they were wrong--and what have I done? But, there! absurd! They could not keep back the money; it would not be legal." But suppose that, legal or illegal, they kept it back to make up for the missing money, how then? The vicar would not do such a thing, he was too kind-hearted; but Timson might prompt him--Timson, who had always been so ready with his suspicions. He would go and tell him to his face of his cruelty to a wronged man. He dared meet him, though he now shrank from encountering the vicar. But no; he was too hasty; the money was not legally due until he had formally given up the organ-key. But if they did keep it back--that twelve pounds ten--could he not take legal proceedings for its recovery? How, when they had been so lenient to him? "Lenient!" his brow grew wrinkled as the word flashed over his mind. Was he not innocent, unless indeed he had committed the theft in his sleep--walked to the church from sheer habit? But absurd! he was innocent. "Prove it, sir--prove it," rang in his ears, and he seemed to see before him the stiff figure of the little churchwarden, with his hands stuck beneath the tails of his coat. "Prove it, sir--prove it," and how was he to prove it?