But, was she not altered! Now that the flush had faded, and emotion passed, the once sweet, fresh, blooming face stood out in its reality. Sweet, indeed, it was still; but the bloom and freshness had given place to a haggard look, and to dark circles round the soft brown eyes, weary now. She had no more to tell of the past calamities than her letter and Mr. Lockett had told. _Jerry's Gazette_ was the sore point with the Squire, but she did not seem to understand it better than we did. "I want to know one thing," said he, quite fiercely. "How did _Jerry's Gazette_ get at the transaction between your husband and Gavity? Did Gavity go to it, open-mouthed, with the news?" Mary did not know. She had heard something about a register--that the bill of sale had to be registered somewhere, and thought _Jerry's Gazette_ might have obtained the information from that source. "Heaven bless us all!" cried the Squire. "Can't a man borrow a bit of money but it must become known to his enemies, if he has any, bringing them down upon him like a pack of hounds in full cry? This used to be the freest land on earth." The baby began to scream. She put down the wool-work, and hushed it to her. I am sure the Squire had half a mind to tell her to give it a gentle shaking. He looked upon screaming babies as natural enemies: the truth is, with all his abuse, he was afraid of them. "Has it got a name?" he asked gruffly. "Yes--Mary: he wished it," she said, glancing at the door. "I thought we should have to call it Polly, in contradistinction to mine." Polly! That was another coincidence. Lease's eldest girl was Polly. And what made her speak of things in the past tense? She caught me looking at her; caught, I fancy, the fear on my face. I told her hurriedly that little Joe must be a Dutchman, for not a word could I understand of the tale he was whispering about his doll. What with Mary's work, and the little earned by Blair while he was about, they had not wanted for necessaries in a plain way. I suppose Lockett took care they should not do so: but he was only a curate. The baby needed its supper, to judge by the squealing. Mary poured the contents of the saucepan--some thin gruel--into a saucer, and began feeding the little mite by teaspoonfuls, putting each one to her own lips first to test it. "That's poor stuff," cried the Squire, in a half-pitying, half-angry tone, his mind divided between resentment against babies in general and sympathy with this one. As the baby was there, of course it had to be fed, but what he wanted to know was, why it need have come just when trouble was about. When put out, he had no reason at all. Mrs. Blair suddenly turned her face towards the end door, listening; and we heard a faint voice calling "Mary." "Joe, dear, go and tell papa that I will be with him in one minute."