“Tom,” cried the Rector, “run on before us; you are young and active. Inquire where old Nanny Stilgoe lives, at the head of the village, and tell her that the flood is coming upon her; and help her to move her things, poor old soul, if she will let you help her. Tell her I sent you, and perhaps she will, although she is very hard to deal with. She has long been foretelling this break of the bourne; but the prophets are always the last to set their own affairs in order.” The keeper touched his hat, and set off. He always attended to the parson’s orders more than his own master’s. And Mr. Hales saw from the captain’s face that he had ordered things too freely. “Steenie, I beg your pardon,” he said; “I forgot for the moment that I should have asked you before I despatched your man like that. But I did it for your own good, because we need no longer hurry.” “Rector, I am infinitely obleeged to you. To order those men is so fatiguing. I always want some one to do it for me. And now we may go down the hill, I suppose, without snapping all our knee-caps. To go up a hill fast is a very bad thing; but to go down fast is a great deal worse, because you think you can do it.” “My dear fellow, you may take your time. I will not walk you off your legs, as that wicked niece of mine did. How are you getting on there now?” “Well, that is a delicate question, Rector. You know what ladies are, you know. But I do not see any reason to despair of calling you ‘uncle,’ in earnest.” “Have you brought the old lady over to your side? You are sure to be right when that is done.” “She has been on my side all along, for the sake of the land. Ah, how good it is!” “And nobody else in the field, that we know of. Then Lallie can’t hold out so very much longer. Lord bless me! do you see that black line yonder?” “To be sure! Why, it seems to be moving onward, like a great snake crawling. And it has a white head. What a wonderful thing!” “It is our first view of the Woeburn. Would to heaven that it were our last one! The black is the water, and the white, I suppose, is the chalky scum swept before it. It is following the old track, as lava does. It will cross the Coombe road in about five minutes. If you want to get home, you must be quick to horse. Never mind the rain: let us run down the hill--or just stop one half-minute.”