Milly raised doubts which subsided in a kind of awe when Agatha faced her with the evidence of dates. "You remember, Milly, the night when he slept." "I do remember. He said himself it was miraculous." She meditated. "And so you think it's that?" she said presently. "I do indeed. If I dared leave off (I daren't) you'd see for yourself." "What do you think you've got hold of?" "I don't know yet." There was a long deep silence which Milly broke. "What do you _do_?" she said. "I don't do anything. It isn't me." "I see," said Milly. "_I_'ve prayed. You didn't think I hadn't." "It's not that--not anything you mean by it. And yet it is; only it's more, much more. I can't explain it. I only know it isn't me." She was beginning to feel vaguely uncomfortable about having told her. "And Milly, you mustn't tell him. Promise me you won't tell him." "No, I won't tell him." "Because you see, he'd think it was all rot." "He would," said Milly. "It's the sort of thing he does think rot." "And that might prevent its working." Milly smiled faintly. "I haven't the ghost of an idea what 'it' is. But whatever it is, can you go on doing it?" "Yes, I think so. You see, it depends rather----" "It depends on what?" "Oh, on a lot of things--on your sincerity; on your--your purity. It depends so much on _that_ that it frightens you lest, perhaps, you mightn't, after all, be so very pure." Milly smiled again, a little differently. "Darling, if that's all, I'm not frightened. Only--supposing--supposing you gave out? You might, you know." "_I_ might. But It couldn't. You mustn't think it's me, Milly. Because if anything happened to me, if I did give out, don't you see how it would let him down? It's as bad as thinking it's the place." "Does it matter what it is--or who it is," said Milly, passionately; "as long as----" Her tears came and stopped her. Agatha divined the source of Milly's passion. "Then you don't mind, Milly? You'll let me go on?" Milly rose; she turned abruptly, holding her head high, so that she might not spill her tears. Agatha went with her over the grey field towards the Farm. They paused at the gate. Milly spoke. "Are you sure?" she said. "Certain." "And you won't leave go?" Her eyes shone towards her friend's in the twilight. "You _will_ go on?" "_You_ must go on." "Ah--how?" "Believing that he'll be all right." "Oh, Aggy, he was devoted to Winny. And if the child dies----" CHAPTER SIX The child died three days later. Milly came over to Agatha with the news. She said it had been an awful shock, of course. She'd been dreading something like that for him. But he'd taken it wonderfully. If he came out of it all right she _would_ believe in what she called Agatha's "thing."