Now that the truth must soon be known, poor Janet's hopes and courage had deserted her. Till now she could not know soon enough. Now she would gladly have put off certainty a little longer. It was all she could do not to entreat her husband to wait a little, but she held her peace and subsided into a very unpromising wooden armchair. Fred turned to the mistress of the Cygnet, and said— "Will you bring Mrs. Rayburn some tea as soon as possible?" He followed her out of the room, shutting the door. "Stay, if you please. Can you tell me where the doctor lives? You have not more than one, I suppose, in so small a place?" "I may say there's only one, though his son is well-nigh a doctor too, and they do say he set Jerry Davidson's leg as handsome as possible, the doctor being away at the time. He lives on the green, sir, the second house from the church. I'll show you the green. Step this way, sir; you can see it from our door, and the second house is Dr. Wentworth's." "Wentworth! I thought his name was Giles?" "Oh, that's his son—his adopted son, sir." "Thank you. Well, come what may, we shall know soon—my poor Janet!" Janet and Lily had some tea. The Cygnet knew a great deal more about beer and punch than about tea, and consequently, it was not very refreshing. Lily began to feel anxious about her mother, she looked so pale. "Mother dear," the girl said, "let us go out and get a little fresh air. We need not go out of sight of the door, you know." "It is very close indeed; I am half smothered," poor Janet said; and, more to please Lily than because she hoped for relief, she tied her bonnet and stood up. The busy landlady heard the door open, and came into the passage. "We are going to walk about a little," said Lily. "Maybe you'd like to see the church, ladies? Sexton lives next door, and will lend you the key of yonder little gate, just t'other side of the road; it opens into the churchyard—the seminary, I believe, gentlefolk call it—and it's a matter of general remark that our church and the churchyard are very pretty; I've known people come from a distance to see them. I'll just get you the key." She rushed into the nearest cottage, and came out carrying a key. "Here 'tis, ma'am; and if you go up the steps you'll see, just before you, near the top, two little graves, kept beautiful with flowers, and when you come back, I'll tell you the story of them two graves, which is worth hearing, I assure you, besides being true. Here's the key of the gate—the wicked gate, sexton calls it, but it's a good gate enough, and handy when one don't want to go round to the big one." To stop the torrent of words, Janet took the key, and she and Lily crossed the road. "How she does chatter!" Lily said. "But we may as well go in, mother. It will be quieter than out here, don't you think?" "Yes, so it will. We can watch for your father well enough there."