Having engaged comfortable quarters at the Bell and Horns, Nutford, we had a tea-dinner, and started to walk to Sheldon. It was a fine night, and Sophy distinguished herself as a pedestrian; the four-mile walk was accomplished in an hour and twenty minutes by the watch. The one narrow street of which the village could boast was still and quiet; not a soul was to be seen in it. "After seven o'clock at night," said Bob, "place like a churchyard. Sleepy Hollow a paradise compared to it." There was something inexpressibly depressing in the aspect of the street; the two or three poor shops were closed, and neither in them nor in the cottages was there a sign of life. The suggestion of a grave came to my mind. "Remember Eden?" asked Bob, who was in the best of spirits. "Mark Tapley would have grown fat here." At the end of the street we crossed a common, and then traversed an avenue of mournful trees, bounded by a stone wall. "The outskirts of Tylney House," said Bob, with the air of a professional guide. "House can't be seen from this point. Nor from any point in particular. Lies in a valley. Observe the jagged glass at top of wall. Just here there's a bare spot. Think you could climb over it, Sophy, otherwise Maria?" "Git over it like a bird," said Sophy. The conversation was carried on in low tones, Sophy's voice being sepulchral, in view of the part of the dumb patient she was presently to enact. "Good girl. Prove yourself. There's a tree. Show us a climb." It was a branchless tree, with scarce a knob on its straight trunk, and with nothing to hold on by, but Sophy tackled it unhesitatingly, and was a dozen feet above our heads in a twinkling. There she perched, peering over the wall into the grounds of Tylney House. Presently she scrambled down, and nudging Bob, said, "Will that do?" "You've got the heart of a lion," said Bob, admiringly. "I've no fears for you. Can you read?" "No." "Write?" "No." "Tell the time?" "Oh, I can do that." "That's a blessing. Here's a silver watch. A stem-winder. When we get back to Nutford I'll show you how to wind it up. What's the time now?" "'Arf past eight." "Correct. That tree is thirty feet high. Or thereabouts." "What of that?" "I should say it could be seen by anybody inside that stone wall. By you, when you're inside them. Now, Sophy, otherwise Maria, you have peculiarities. One, that you're dumb." "Inside them walls," said Sophy, "I am. Dumb as a fish." "Another, that you've an unconquerable habit of shying stones." "I'm a dab at that," said Sophy. "As a friendly patient," continued Bob, "you must be indulged. When you get it into your head to shy stones you're to be let alone. That's one of the conditions of your becoming a friendly patient." "I twig. I'm to shy stones at that tree." "You are. At certain times of the day. At twelve o'clock by the silver watch. At four o'clock by the same." "Crikey!" exclaimed Sophy. "Yer don't mean to say I'm to have the ticker?"