She did not herself question the doctor's servants, as it might stand in the way of future plans to be recognized by them, but she discovered several shops at which the family dealt, and would go into these under the pretext of buying some small article, and elicit a good deal of information by means of casual inquiries about Mrs. Duncan. She learnt that Mary was "doing well, but suffering from great weakness." There was one old woman who kept a newspaper shop. She was very fond of a gossip with a customer, and was also wont to take a deep interest in all her neighbours' affairs, prying assiduously into them whenever possible. Susan had soon discovered these useful traits in the old woman's character, so often called on her with the object of sounding her. One day, about a week after the birth of Mary's child, Susan went into the shop and purchased a copy of _The Guardian_ newspaper. "Good morning, Mrs. Harris," she said, "I have not seen you for some days; I hope you are well." "As well as can be expected, Miss, in this world of misery and trouble." "Why, Mrs. Harris, I should not have thought that the world was using you very hardly. But I suppose when one is a sympathetic soul like you, ever thinking over other people's woes, one gets through a good deal of suffering by proxy." Mrs. Harris hardly understood the meaning of the words, certainly not the sarcastic drift of them, but took them as a complimentary tribute to the tenderness of her heart; so she shook her curls slowly backwards and forwards and looked mournful. "Ah yes, Miss!" she said, "I really do think that I take as much interest in other peoples' sorrows as in my own." "As a true Christian should," replied Susan, biting her lips to conceal the smile she could scarcely keep down. "I noticed how feelingly you spoke about that poor lady who had the baby the other day--the doctor's wife--Mrs. Duncan I think her name was. How is she getting on now, by the way, Mrs. Harris--have you heard?" "Poor thing! Poor thing!" said the old lady in a lackadaisical voice, putting on a very solemn expression and shaking her corkscrew curls again. "Is she worse then?" asked Susan. "No, no! It is not that--at least not exactly that. I believe that her confinement has passed by in a very satisfactory way; but--" and she shook her head yet once again in a mysterious fashion. "I do not quite understand you," observed Susan. "If I were a gossip, which I am glad to say I am not," spoke up Mrs. Harris in deliberate tones, "I might say strange things about that house." "Good gracious! what _do_ you mean?" "Her husband is a popular man hereabouts it is true--but--" and Mrs. Harris shut her mouth with a snap, as if determined to say no more. "You don't mean to say that her husband ill-treats her!" "No, Miss! I don't exactly say that, I don't know that he does. All I say is that it is very, very strange, but I'd rather say nothing more about it, Miss."