“Oh, Clare! she’s in the village by this time, walking so quick. I wonder if it is good to walk so quick, especially in the sun. When I was a young girl like Clare---- And then they say it brings illnesses---- She was in such a hurry; not a bit like Clare to walk so fast; and it makes you look heated, and all that. Mr. Arden, you will make me so happy if you will only look. It can draw out, and I can lie all my length when I get tired. The Queen herself, if she were an invalid--but I’m so glad she is not an invalid, poor dear lady; with all those horrible death warrants to sign, and everything--Don’t you think there should be somebody to do the death warrants when there is a lady for the Queen--I mean, you know, when there is a Queen? But if I were the Queen I could not have anything better. Isn’t he a dear fellow! And the springs so good, and everything so light and nice and so pretty. You have not half seen yet how nice----” “There is somebody a little in advance who will appreciate it a great deal better than I can,” said Arthur. “I must overtake Miss Arden. Yes--there; just a little further on.” “Now, I wonder what he can mean by somebody a little in advance,” said Miss Somers, as Arthur went hastily on. “Can it be Edgar, I wonder--the dear fellow! or the Rector? or whom, I wonder? Mercy, please, if you don’t mind the trouble, do you see anybody coming? Not that I mind who I meet. I am sure I should like to show dear Edgar’s present everywhere. I wonder if it is Lady Augusta? I am sure, Mercy, you know I have always thought well of Lady Augusta----” “I don’t see nobody, mum,” said Mercy, cutting her mistress remorselessly short, “but them Scotch folks as lives in the village, and ain’t no company for the quality; set them up, them and their pride! John, Miss Somers wants to go a little quicker past them tramps and folks; for they ain’t no better, a poking into our parish,” muttered Mercy, under her breath. “Oh, no, John; please, John--I want so much to see them,” remonstrated Miss Somers. Fortunately, John wanted to see them too, and after a struggle with Mercy, who ruled her mistress with a rod of iron, the procession paused opposite to where Mrs. Murray sat. Mercy herself could not be more unwilling for any colloquy. The old Scotchwoman kept on her knitting, with her eyes steadily fixed upon it, as long as that was possible. She only moved when the invalid’s eager voice had called her over and over again, “Oh, please, come and speak to me. I am Dr. Somers’ sister, and a great invalid, and I have heard so much about you; and just yesterday I was saying to my brother---- Oh, please, do put down your knitting for a moment and come to me. I am so helpless, I cannot put my foot to the ground.” Mrs. Murray rose slowly at this appeal, and came and stood by the invalid’s chair. CHAPTER XXV.