"Women! to be sure!" cried Sir John, "call the housekeeper, one of you rascals. Women! Hang it, Ned, do you think I could live in a house without women? A bottle of claret is not more necessary to my existence than the sight of a cap and a petticoat flying about the house--in the distance, Ned, in the distance! No brooms and dust-pans too near me; but in a discreet position, far enough off yet visible; woman is the sunshine of a house." "Give him to me, Captain Hayward," said Miss Clifford, holding out her arms for the boy. "He will be quiet with me, I am sure. Won't you, my poor little fellow?" The child gazed at her strangely as she took him, letting go Dr. Miles's arm to do so; but meeting the sweet smile that lighted up her beautiful face, he put his little arms round her neck the next moment, and hid his large blue eyes upon her shoulder. She held him kindly there, speaking a few gentle words to him, while Ned Hayward looking round the party addressed himself to the worthy clergyman, inquiring, "You are the rector of this parish, Sir, I think?" Dr. Miles made a stiff bow, not prepossessed in favour of any of Sir John Slingsby's old friends, and answered as briefly as possible, "I am, Sir." "Then can you tell me," asked the young gentleman, eagerly, "if there was any woman up at the cottage on the moor?" Dr. Miles started, and replied with a look of much greater interest, "No, Sir, no. What has happened? Why do you ask? What cottage do you mean? There are three." "I mean the cottage of a man called Gimlet," answered Ned Hayward. "I saw some women's clothes--gowns and things; and I thought there might be a woman there, that's all. There was none then?" "There was one six months ago," replied the clergyman, in a very grave tone, "as lovely a creature as ever was seen, but she lies in my churchyard, poor thing. She is at peace." "Thank God," said Ned Hayward, in a tone of relief. "Ah, here comes somebody for the child. My good lady, will you have the kindness to take good care of this little fellow. See that he is not burnt or hurt, and let him have some bread-and-milk, or things that children eat--I don't know very well what they are, but I dare say you do." "Oh, by Jove that she does!" exclaimed Sir John Slingsby, "she feeds half the children in the parish. You take good care of him, Mrs. Hope--and now, Ned," he continued, turning from the housekeeper to his guest, "what the devil's the meaning of all this?" "I will tell you by and by, Sir John," answered Captain Hayward. "Pray go to dinner and I will be down directly. Many apologies for being late; but it was not to be helped. I will not be ten minutes; but do not let me detain you--" "But what is it all about? What has happened? Who the deuce is the child?" exclaimed Sir John. "Do you think either men or women can eat soup or digest fish with their stomachs full of curiosity?"