It was so nave of Julia to invoke common-sense.

"Exactly what I say. She has three hundred a year under this will."

"Three hundred----!" she gasped.

For the moment it was all she could do. A whiff at her ammonia brought her round.

"You mean to tell me that Uncle Barton left this woman an income equal to mine--equal--to--mine?"

"Certainly."

It is difficult to say what would eventually have happened to Mrs.

Darrow if a knock at the front door had not then brought her face to face with another and even more stern reality. She gave a hasty peep through the window. What she saw had an effect h.o.m.oeopathic in principle, though it certainly was not so in dose. It was surprise upon surprise--like curing like. What she had seen was the figure of Mrs.

Parsley, and with the sight had come a great calm over her. For she hated Mrs. Parsley more than she hated anyone at the present moment.

"Oh, my dear," she said, as the vicar's wife entered the room, "I _am_ so delighted--this _is_ a surprise. How _are_ you?"

"It's easy to see there's not much the matter with _you_," returned her visitor, in her most aggressive manner.

"Indeed I am _very_ ill," said Mrs. Darrow, in the faintest of faint voices, "if you only felt my pulse. I can hardly speak, it is so weak."

"Rubbish--_that_ day'll never dawn. It's liver that's the matter with you. Liver, my dear--torpid liver. Too much to eat and too little to do!"

Mrs. Darrow felt that something within her must give if this kind of thing went on.

"I don't know how you can speak like that," she said. "I don't know I have a liver."

"Of course you don't--if you did you'd be more careful of it. But here, _you_----" She placed both of her sinewy hands upon her enormous green umbrella, and brought it down with a thud in front of Gerald. "It's _you_ I really came to see. I heard that you were here. Nothing escapes _me_ in this village. Where is your wife?"

"She appears to have escaped you, Mrs. Parsley--she is in town!"

"Then she oughtn't to be. Why haven't you brought her down here to share your good fortune? She should be at the Manor House beside you."

"I am shutting up the Manor House. I'm going abroad in a week."

"Is that her doing or yours?"

"Mine. Perhaps I had better tell you at once that my wife and I have agreed to differ. We are not living together for the present."

"That means you've been doing something--what is it?"

"I a.s.sure you he has been doing nothing," put in Mrs. Darrow, "except what is right. He has been very badly treated. Don't you know that----"

"Mrs. Parsley knows nothing, nor is it necessary she should," said Gerald rising. "What has occurred between my wife and myself concerns us only."

"Humph!" grunted Mrs. Parsley. "And where is Hilda, may I ask?"

Gerald flushed. He knew what she meant to insinuate.

"Mrs. Dundas is with her husband at Brampton, I believe," he replied.

"And you're going abroad?--well, that's as it should be."

"I'm glad you think so," said Gerald. He felt he was on rather rocky ground, and didn't altogether like it. He turned to Julia. "I must be going now," he said. "I'll see you again in a month or two. If I come across anything pretty in Paris I'll send it over. Good-bye."

"Humph!" grunted Mrs. Parsley again. "Good-bye. Just a word with you, Julia. I must be off too."

"Julia!"

"Well, I've known you for thirty-five years. I suppose I can call you by your name."

In earnest whereof Mrs. Parsley again thumped the floor with her "gamp."

Gerald hurried away, Mrs. Darrow following him to the door.

"Not a word to anyone about Miriam," he whispered. "And see that d.i.c.ky holds his tongue. Mind, you know what depends on it!"

"I believe he's got a sneaking kind of feeling for her still," thought the widow, as she returned to the little drawing-room. Mrs. Parsley was seated in an att.i.tude quite characteristic of her--her chin resting on her hands, and her hands clutching the handle of her huge umbrella. She came to business at once.

"I want you to take the Sunday School for a fortnight, Julia--I'm going up to town."

"Oh, the Sunday School gives me a headache," protested Mrs. Darrow, who had no notion of obliging her enemy. "I haven't taught for years."

"Time you began then. Lady Dane has promised to take a cla.s.s."

"Lady Dane!" Mrs. Darrow, like Tommy Moore, dearly loved a lord, and the prospect of teaching in the same room as an earl's daughter was irresistibly attractive. "Well, I'll do what you wish, Mrs. Parsley. I'm sure I'm the most unselfish woman in the world."

"Then that's all right," sniffed the vicar's wife. "I thought Lady Dane would fix it. If she isn't above it, I don't think you should be."

"I'm always ready to take my share of the parish work," said Julia. Then her curiosity began to a.s.sert itself. "What are you going up to town for?"

Mrs. Parsley waxed more amiable, and rubbed the tip of her nose.

"Well, my dear, I don't mind telling you I'm worried a good deal. I'm sorry to say Gideon Anab hasn't turned out quite what I expected. The scamp's been spending the money I gave him for his heathen companions on himself, so I'm just going up to see about it."

"You shouldn't trust such creatures. He was a vile boy that."

"He'll be a sore boy when I get hold of him. I hear he lives at Lambeth, in a horrid slum, with his grandmother. She's called Mother Mandarin.

Odd name, isn't it?"

Julia p.r.i.c.ked up her ears. She had heard the name before. She remembered distinctly hearing it mentioned by Jabez to Miriam. Even after that s.p.a.ce of time her memory wasn't likely to fail her regarding anything detrimental to Mrs. Arkel.

"I think you'll find Miriam can tell you something about that old lady."

"Miriam? What does she know about her?" asked Mrs. Parsley sharply.

"That's more than I can tell you," replied Mrs. Darrow. "I know I heard her mention the name, because it struck me as such a curious one."