"And it was not himself?" asked Hannah, catching up her breath. Molly gave her head a shake. "No more than it was you or me: it was his shadow. He walked on up the path, looking neither to the right nor left, and they lost sight of him. I was with mother when they came home. Mary Clarkson, she came in with Beck, and they said they had seen Tom Town, and supposed he had gone out watching, too. Mother advised them to hold their tongues: it didn't look well, she said, for them two, only sickly young girls, to have run out to the graveyard alone. A short while after, Tom Town, in talking of that night, mother having artfully led to it, said he had gone up to bed at nine with a splitting headache, and forgot all about its being St. Mark's Eve. When mother heard that, she turned the colour o' chalk, and looked round at me." "And Tom Town died?" "He died that blessed year; the very day that folks was eating their Michaelmas gooses. A rapid decline took him off." "It's very strange," said Hannah, musingly. "People believe here that the shadows appear, and folks used to go watching, as it's said. I don't think many go now. Did the two young women die?" "Not they. Becky's married, and got half-a-dozen children; and Mary Clarkson, she went off to America. Shouldn't you like to watch?" "Well, I should," acknowledged Hannah; "I would, too, if I thought I should see anything. I've said more than once in my life that I should just like to go out on St. Mark's Eve, and see whether there is anything in it or not. My mother went, I know." "If you'll go, I'll go." Hannah made no answer to this at first. She sat looking at the fire with a cross face. It had always a cross look when she was deep in thought. "The mistress would think me such a fool, Molly, if she came to know of it." "If! How could she come to know of it? Next Monday will be the Easter holidays, and we mayn't never have the opportunity again. I shouldn't wonder but the lane's full o' watchers. St. Mark's Eve don't often come on a Easter Monday." There's no time to go on with what they said. A good half-hour the two sat there, laying their plans: when once Hannah had decided to go in for the expedition, she made no more bones over it. The nursery-windows faced the front, and when the carriage was heard driving in, they both decamped downstairs--Hannah to the children, Molly to her kitchen. I found Tod, and told him the news: Hannah and Molly were going to watch in the churchyard for the shadows on St. Mark's Eve. "We'll have some fun over this, Johnny," said he, when he had done laughing. "You and I will be on to them."