"I do, sir; and the young lady—"
But there was no need for any more of Mrs. Hunt's roundabout statements. Helen had already guessed from Mr. Bayden's agitated tones that something was wrong, and she now appeared upon the scene.
"What are you doing here?" cried the clergyman, catching sight of her.
"I—I only came to see Jim, he seemed so lonely," faltered Helen. "I am very sorry if I did wrong. Please don't blame Harold. It was all my doing that we came."
"Oh! what have you done! what have you done!" cried Mr. Bayden, wringing his hands. "Come home with me directly. I must see your father."
"Well, I never!" ejaculated Mrs. Hunt in some indignation; whilst Helen, still bewildered, prepared to obey.
"My good woman, don't attempt to interfere," said Mr. Bayden testily, trying to control himself. "Anything that I can do for the poor lad, of course, as a clergyman, I am prepared to do. But I cannot risk my children. Here is money. Get anything that is needed for Jim."
"A pretty clergyman!" muttered Mrs. Hunt, looking sullenly at the money that still lay upon the table, as though half inclined to throw it after its donor, who was by this time half-way down the village street, followed by Helen. "Well, it's lucky for him Jim is none o' mine, or I'd have given him a piece of my mind. A pretty clergyman!"
Mr. Bayden meanwhile, who would have been the last person in the world to wound Mrs. Hunt's feelings wilfully, and who was quite unconscious that in his terror and excitement he had omitted to explain to her the cause of his perturbation at Harold's visit, was half-way across the fields leading to the Grange before he had sufficiently recovered himself even to address Helen.
"Am I walking too fast for you?" he said then.