"It is the size, the exact size, as well as I could manage to make it out, of a footprint which I found on one spot where the ground was a little less dry than in other places. It was just about a stone's throw from the conservatory of Sir Lacy."
"A single footprint!" exclaimed the vicar.
"And so faint that I passed the place thrice before I saw it all," said the lady. "But two things at least were clear; there were nails in the boot which made the mark, as in those which our village boys wear, and the foot that wore it, was a good deal smaller than that of a tall man like Ned Franks."
"There's something in that," observed the vicar, fixing his eyes thoughtfully on the paper. "But it by no means follows that the footprint was left by the person who broke the glass."
"Then you think the paper of no use," said the lady, in a tone of disappointment.
"I never said so; I trust that it may be of great use, my dear, and I thank you, not only for bringing it, but for the hint which you gave me in regard to my lecture this evening. I have been thinking over the subject."
"And praying, I am sure," said his wife.
"Ay," replied the vicar of Colme; "we can do nothing without God's blessing, and we can do everything if it be ours."
[CHAPTER VIII.]
THE SCHOOL-ROOM ADDRESS.