"Oh! it's Mrs. Faircloth's son I suppose--the person who keeps the Inn. I heard he'd been home for a few days waiting for a ship"--and she turned resolutely towards the house. "It's quite time that silver was taken indoors and the library windows closed. But you must excuse me, Miss Damaris, I can't have you stay out here in that thin gown in the damp. You really must come with me, Miss." And the child in Damaris obeyed. Dutifully it went, though the soul of the eighteen-year-old Damaris was far away, started once more on an anxious quest. She heard the loose shingle shift and rattle under Faircloth's feet as he swung down the near slope to the jetty. The sound pursued her, and again she was overtaken--overwhelmed by foreboding and desire of flight. CHAPTER II WHICH CANTERS ROUND A PARISH PUMP Not until the second bell was about to cease ringing did Theresa Bilson--fussily consequential--reappear at The Hard. During the absence of the master of the house she would have much preferred high tea in the schoolroom, combined with a certain laxity as to hours and to dress; but Damaris, in whom the sense of style was innate, stood out for the regulation dignities of late dinner and evening gowns. To-night, however, thanks to her own unpunctuality, Miss Bilson found ample excuse for dispensing with ceremonial garments. "No--no--we will not wait," she said, addressing Mary and her attendant satellite, Laura, the under-housemaid, as--agreeably ignorant of the sentiment of a servants' hall which thirsted for her blood--she passed the two standing at attention by the open door of the dining-room. "I am not going to change. I will leave my hat and things down here--Laura can take them to my room later--and have dinner as I am." During the course of that meal she explained how she had really quite failed to observe the hour when she left the Grey House. Commander and Mrs. Battye were at tea there; and the vicar--Dr. Horniblow--looked in afterwards. There was quite a little meeting, in fact, to arrange the details of the day after to-morrow's choir treat. A number of upper-class parishioners, she found, were anxious to embrace this opportunity of visiting Harchester, and inspecting the Cathedral and other sights of that historic city, under learned escort. It promised to be a most interesting and instructive expedition, involving moreover but moderate cost.--And every one present--Theresa bridled over her salmon cutlet and oyster sauce--everyone seemed so anxious for her assistance and advice. The vicar deferred to her opinion in a quite pointed manner; and spoke, which was so nice of him, of her known gift of organization. "So we claim not only your sympathy, Miss Bilson, but your active co-operation," he had said. "We feel The Hard should be officially represented." Here the speaker became increasingly self-conscious and blushed.