Who could have done this thing? He remembered her expressed wish to get to London, when they were walking down to the Mere that other day. It was, perhaps, not quite so bad--as yet--as old Seth feared. The girl's longing for what seemed to her the wider, brighter life might have led her to risk her poor little fortune in the metropolis. Or it might be that she had not come to London at all, but had gone away with some village lover. But--on the whole--he was inclined to think London her more likely aim. And as to whether she had come alone he had nothing whatever to go upon. It was long after midday before he got back to his quarters, but old Seth had not found the time any too long, having been fast asleep ever since he had eaten. Jim got out of his trappings and lit a pipe, which he had taken to of late as at once a promoter of thought and a soother of undue exertion in that direction. And after a time old Seth stretched himself and opened his eyes, and then sat up. "Ah've slep'," he said quietly. "But yo' towd me to." "You'll feel all the better for it. Now, tell me all you can about this matter, Seth, and we'll see if we can see through it. Where is young Seth?" "Hoo's away." "And who have you left with Mrs. Rimmer?" "Hoo's dead and buried." And the strong old voice came near to breaking again. "Dead!" "Ay! It killed her. She wur not strong, as yo' know, and thought of it wur too much for her. Hoo just fretted and died." "Oh, Seth, I am sorry--sorrier than I can tell you. That's dreadful for you." "Ah dun' know. Mebbe it's best she's gone. Hoo'll fret no more, and hoo suffered much." "I am very, very sorry. What could have made you think I could do such a thing, Seth? You know how we've always liked Kattie, all of us, and how good Mrs. Rimmer always was to us. How could you think any of us could do such a thing?" "One gets moithered wi' grief, yo' know. An' that night after yo'd gone she were talking o' nowt but Lunnon, Lunnon, Lunnon, till I got sick on't. An' I towd her to shut up, and what was it had started her o' that tack? An' she said it was seet o' yo', an' yo'd bin talking o' it to her." "As we went down to the boat she was saying how she would like to see London, and I told her she was far better off where she was. I think that was all I said, Seth." "Ah believe yo'. She wur flighty at times, an' she got stowed o' th' sand-hills an' th' sea. It wur a dull life for a young thing, I know, but ah couldna mend it, wi' th' missus bad like that." "It's a sad business, Seth," said Jim despondently. "And I don't know what we can do about it. If she really did come to London you might look for her here for the rest of your life and never find her." "Ay, it's a mortal big place. The clatter an' the bustle mazes me till my head spins round. But I conna go whoam till I've looked for her." "I'll find you a room. My man Joyce is sure to know where to get one. Have you enough money with you?"