Susannah and Mrs. Job came out of the chapel at the same moment. The former looked round in search of Heber. He was nowhere to be seen and she wondered if he had gone into her companion's cottage; with that probability in her mind, she bid her good-day, introducing herself as a member of the shepherd's family. Mrs. Job replied shortly to her greeting and made no comment on the information. They went across the grass, side by side, and when they had reached the doorstep without any suggestion of hospitality passing between them, the younger woman spoke again. "Is Heber here?" she asked, nodding towards the walls. "I'll see," said the other; and with that she entered, leaving her companion outside. Susannah's lips closed in an angry line; it was evident that she was to get no encouragement. She was ignorant of the reason for this plain hostility; but it only made her more certain that her suspicion was correct and that the shepherd was not far off. Mrs. Job reappeared, holding the door open to show a portion of her face--no more. "He be'ant here," she called. But Susannah was not to be baffled so easily. "Can ye give me a drink o' water?" she inquired. "It's dry work coming up the hill." The door was shut on her and she heard the pump working in the yard. Apparently the latch was not to be lifted again, for when Mrs. Job returned she came round the side of the house and handed her the desired drink. Susannah swallowed the water, feeling as if it would choke her. "Thank ye," she said. And, as the elder woman put out her hand to take the empty cup, she dashed it on the ground at their feet. The china flew into shivers on the step. She went off along the track, leaving the other speechless, and when she had gone a little way she sat down on the turf and looked back. Mrs. Job had gone in and the chapel-goers were dispersing; black figures scattered in retreating groups towards different quarters of the landscape. Heber was with none of them and no one was going in her own direction. It seemed as if they, with Mrs. Job and the shepherd, were in the conspiracy against her. At last she rose and set out for the place at which she was to find the gig. Her eyes were dry, because she was too furious for tears. About an hour afterwards Heber's perturbed wanderings came to an end: he approached Pencoed again. It was not only Susannah's demeanour and its suggestion that annoyed him, for, in his heart, he blamed her for having let slip his regained treasure. It was an illogical feeling, because he never doubted that Catherine had gone with Saunders, and gone willingly, repenting the rash step she had taken. He did not overlook the difference between himself and the richer man, though he despised Charles. He had managed to convey news of what had happened to Mrs. Job, and his heart was so sore that he longed for the sympathy of the uncompromising and undemonstrative person whose partisanship never failed him.