He set off and presently sighted the woman tramping up the hill in the rain. Under the wild weather and fading light, she looked like some large, bedraggled moth blown roughly about. Her basket was full and her left arm held a parcel in blue paper. It was the only spot of colour she offered. They met, greatly to her surprise. "Good Lord!" she said. "Have father put more chores on you? Be you going to Ashburton?" "I am not," he answered. "I came out with my big umbrella to meet you." She was fluttered. "How terrible kind! But 'tis no odds. I be bone-wet." Nevertheless, Mr. Palk unfurled a large, faded, glass-green umbrella over her. "Give me the basket," he said, "and I'll walk betwixt you and the weather. I come for more reasons than one, Susan. Something's happened while you were to town and I'd sooner you heard it from me than him." "Nought gone wrong with father?" "That's for others to say. But something have gone parlous wrong with me." She started and hugged her blue paper parcel closer. It contained the bottle of brown sherry. "I hope not, I'm sure." "In a word, I'm sorry to say I leave Falcon Farm Monday month. It have fallen with a terrible rush upon me--and my own fault too. I can't tell you the reason, but so it is. The master's sacked me; and every right to do so, no doubt, in his own eyes." Miss Stockman stood still and panted. Her face was wet with rain; her hair touzled; her hat dripping. "Be you saying truth?" she asked, and fetched a handkerchief from her pocket and dried her face. "Gospel. I done a thing as he took in a very unkind spirit I'm sorry to say." The blue parcel trembled. "Going--you? Never!" "Monday month it have got to be." "Why for? What have you gone and done? It must have been something properly fearful, for he thought the world of you, behind your back." "To my face, however, he did not--not this evening. And as to what I done, I hope he won't feel called to name it in your ear. It was a very dangerous task, as I reckoned when I started on it; but I felt drove--Lord knows why! I meant well, but that don't amount to much when you fail. No doubt he'll get somebody he likes better; and he won't withhold a good character neither." "This be a cruel come-along-of-it," she said blankly. "I couldn't have heard nothing to trouble me more, Thomas. You was the bestest we've ever had to Falcon Farm--and kindness alive." "Thank you I'm sure. We've been very good friends. And why not?" "I can't picture you gone. 'Twas a rit of temper. I'll speak to father." "Don't you do that. There weren't no temper, nor yet language. He meant it and he's an unchanging man." "Whatever did he say? What did you do? I will know! It shan't be hid. Perhaps 'tis only his tubes fretting him." "No--nothing to do with his tubes. He was well within his rights. Not that I'll allow he was right, however."