"Nay, now, that’s bad news, to be sure." Will was genuinely concerned. He glanced at Sarah kindly, though with a diffident air. "Happen a pair o’ glasses’ll fix you," he said, in his gentle tones. There was a pause, and then he jerked his head towards the arch that led to the inn. "I left my missis behind there, talking to Mrs. Bond. If you’re thinking o’ seeing t’doctor, you’d best have a woman to come along." "I meant to ax May," Simon said hurriedly, praying for May to spring out of the ground, and, as if by way of reply, she came out of a shop on the far side. He plunged forward, waving and calling her name, and she stopped, smiling, as he caught her by the arm. She was grave at once, however, when she heard what he had to say, and her eyes rested on Sarah with a troubled look. She gave a nod of comprehension when he pointed towards the arch, and, without waiting to hear more, crossed over to Sarah’s side. By the time the stranger appeared the women had vanished down the street, while the brothers were making their way to the market square. This was the second time that the Thornthwaites had fled at the sound of a name, and this time, as it happened, May was sent speeding away, too. IV May, however, was only thinking of how she could be of use, and was very cheery and pleasant all along the street. Already she had come across one or two pieces of news, and laughed about them to Sarah until Sarah was laughing, too. Once or twice they met somebody who had something else to tell, and they stood on the pavement together and thrashed the matter out. May’s laugh sounded young and gay, and a girlish colour came into her cheeks. The old figure beside her seemed to draw vitality from her generous warmth, her brave air which made an adventure of every commonplace of life. Sarah even rose to a joke or two on her own account, and was wonderfully heartened when they got to the doctor’s house. She would not hear of having a cup of tea or even a rest. Time enough for such things, she said with spirit, when they were through. She had both of them, however, at the doctor’s, because he would not let her go away without. May took her into the dining-room by his orders, and found her an easy chair beside the fire. A parlourmaid brought a tray, and Sarah drank her tea cheerfully enough, soothed by the comfort and quiet and the presence of some sweet-smelling flower. The doctor had been kindness itself, and had felt a little depressed when he sent the women away. He did not know that the last thing that was in their minds as they sat by the fire was the terrible fact that Sarah was going blind. They spoke of it, indeed, but only casually, as it were, before passing on to the greater thing at its back. Sarah’s sense of courtesy forced her at least to give the doctor a pat on the head.