"I will go and get the money without Hallam, Thickens; but as I undertook to go with him, I shall write and tell him I have gone." "Very well, sir, very well. As you please," said Thickens; "I should not: but you are a clergyman, and more particular about such things than I am." Bayle smiled, and shook hands, leaving Thickens looking after him intently as he walked down the street. "He wouldn't dare!" said Thickens to himself thoughtfully. "He would not dare. I wish he had not been going to tell him, though. Humph! dropping in to see poor old Gemp because he has had a fit." He paused till he had seen Bayle enter the old man's house, and then went on muttering to himself. "I never could understand why Gemp was made; he never seems to have been of the least use in the world, though, for the matter of that, idlers don't seem much good. Hah! If Gemp knew what I know, there'd be a crowd round the bank in half-an-hour, and they'd have Hallam's house turned inside out in another quarter. I don't like his telling Hallam about his going," he mused. "It's a large sum of money, though I made light of it, and the mail's safe enough. We've about got by the old highwayman days, but I wish he hadn't told him, all the same." Meanwhile the curate had turned in at Gemp's to see how the old fellow was getting on. "Nicedly, sir, very nicedly," said the woman in charge; "he've had a beautiful sleep, and Doctor Luttrell says he be coming round to his senses fast." Poor old Gemp did not look as if he had been progressing nicely, but he seemed to recognise his visitor, and appeared to understand a few of his words. But not many, for the old man kept putting his hand to his head and looking at the door, gazing wistfully through the window, and then heaving a heavy sigh. "Oh, don't you take no notice o' that, sir," said the woman; "that be only his way. He's been used to trotting about so much that he feels it a deal when he is laid up, poor old gentleman; he keeps talking about his money, too, sir. Ah, sir, it be strange how old folks do talk about their bit o' money when they're getting anigh the time when they won't want any of it more." And so on till the curate rose and left the cottage. That night he was on his way to London, after sending a line to Hallam to say that upon second thoughts he had considered it better to go up to town alone. Three days passed with nothing more exciting than a few inquiries after Hallam's health, the most assiduous inquirer being Miss Heathery, who called again on the third evening. "I know you think me a very silly little woman, Millicent, my dear, and I'm afraid that perhaps I am, but I do like you, and I should like to help you now you are in trouble." "I always did, and always shall, think you one of my best and kindest friends, Miss Heathery," replied Millicent, kissing her.