“The girl might go,” he observed, slowly, “and yet I don’t think it is right lest she might carry the pest with her. No, sir, I don’t think it would be honest. As for me, Mr. Jeffray, I have no intention of turning tail. What would the poor folk think of their spiritual father if he tucked up his gown and scuttled directly the devil came down on them in the shape of a damnable disease?” There was a look of blunt heroism on Dr. Sugg’s commonplace old countenance that refreshed Jeffray’s spirit of revolt against the Lady Letitia’s cynicism. “You are right, sir,” he said. “I respect you for your sense of duty. The priory is a safer place than the rectory. Let Mary come up here to-morrow. Of course I shall forbid my servants going down into the village.” Dr. Sugg appeared grateful and comforted. He sniffed, and shook Jeffray’s hand with unction. “Thank you, sir,” he said, “I thank you from my heart. And shall you remain at Rodenham yourself?” Richard smiled. “I have no intention of running away,” he answered, “since I may be of some use if the plague spreads. What are they doing down at the Wheat Sheaf? There is the old pest-house down by the brook, is there not?” The rector sighed and shook his head. “George Gogg won’t let his daughter be moved, sir,” he said, “in spite of Surgeon Stott’s fuming. As for the pest-house, the roof’s half in, and Farmer Summers has been keeping his cattle in it. It ain’t fit for use.” Richard took the responsibility to himself. “I am afraid the fault is mine,” he said; “I ought to have had the place kept in repair. Well, send Mary and her boxes up to-morrow. We will take her in till the danger is over.” Richard rode over to Hardacre that same afternoon and found his betrothed in the garden, a coquettish straw hat on her auburn head, the blue ribbons tied in a bow under her chin. Miss Hardacre carried a basket and a rake, and looked as rustic as a somewhat gorgeous blue gown and green hoop would suffer. Miss Jilian’s gowns were legion, and it appeared as though she had one for each day of the month. They were part of the munitions of war, and Sir Peter flattered himself that now Mr. Richard had surrendered, he would no longer receive such outrageously long bills from the smart millinery establishment at Tunbridge Wells. Richard made his betrothed a very fine bow, and was permitted to kiss the hand upon whose third finger shone the diamonds and rubies he had given her. “La, Richard,” quoth Miss Jilian, looking coy, “you have caught me in my oldest clothes, sir. You must remember that I have my housewifely duties. Sir Peter never troubles his head about the garden, and I have to see that the rascals weed the paths.” Mr. Richard declared that he admired a woman who was thoroughly domesticated. “But really, Jilian,” he said, innocently, “your old clothes look very handsome. May I carry the basket for you?”