I passed several farm houses, but since the day was unusually cool for the month of June and as I rather enjoyed the exercise of walking, I concluded not to bother about hiring a trap. A farmer whom I encountered, at a cross-roads where there was a little cluster of half a dozen houses, informed me that S. Saviour's Church was distant about a mile; but already it was half after two o'clock and I realized that I should not have time to present myself at the house before the funeral cortège started. The obvious procedure was for me to wait at the church until the party from "Hildebrand Hundred" had arrived; I could then introduce myself to Mr. Eldon and be assigned to my proper position among the mourners. "Or if you like," continued my new acquaintance, "you can save more'n half way to the church by cuttin' across the Thaneford property. You go in by that stile yander," and he pointed a hundred yards down the road. I felt a trifle doubtful about the propriety of taking a short cut across private grounds, and said as much. "You are quite sure that Mr. Thaneford doesn't object?" I asked. "Of co'se he objects," declared my rural friend, who now informed me that his name was Greenough and that he was the newly elected sheriff of the county. "He objects powerful. But the Co'te has decided that it's a public right-of-way. And when the law gives a man his rights he's bound to maintain them." "Why the right-of-way?" I asked. "The Thaneford property was a royal grant," explained Sheriff Greenough, "but S. Saviour's had been built before that, and the folks here in Guildford Corners retained right of access to their parish church. By the road it's full a mile." "A relic of the established church of colonial days," I remarked. "Nowadays no one is obliged to attend S. Saviour's." "No," admitted the Sheriff, "and I'm a Baptis' myself. But we keep our rights, for nobody knows when we may want to use 'em." Since Mr. Thaneford was apparently unreconciled to the exercise of ancient ecclesiastical privilege, I was about to say that I, as a stranger, did not propose to become a party to the controversy; but a glance at my watch showed me that I would have to take the short cut if I hoped to reach the church by three o'clock. "Mr. Graeme's funeral?" inquired Greenough. "Well, he was a good man and a good neighbor. I'd be there myself if I hadn't business at the Co'te-house to look after. Yes, sir, straight ahead and you can't miss the path. Glad to have obliged you, sir; good evening."