"To the Vicarage! What has she gone there for?"
"Mrs. Elwood's staying there, you know. Years ago she told Polly if ever she wanted to go out to service she was to let her know."
John flushed angrily. "She's not going to service," he said.
"She says she is. Her father's angry, of course; him and me, we neither of us can spare her very well. It's worse than the thought of her getting married, 'cause no one knew how long you and her would be about that. But I wonder at you looking so surprised, John. Didn't you understand as it was all over between you and Polly? She told us so, and she said she couldn't abide to stop in this village to be pointed at by all the boys and girls, and so she was going down straight to the Vicarage, and she'd get the Vicar to write to his sister by this very post if she was gone—but the children saw her yesterday, so I expect she's found her there still."
John stood like a stone. The colour faded from his brown face and left it very pale. There was certainly a little gratified malice in Mrs. Alfrick's eyes as she watched him, mingled as it might be with pity and regret.
"Anyone might make a mistake," said John. "And she needn't have taken it up like that altogether."
He turned round and walked away, without a word of thanks or farewell.
"He is a lout, that John Randal," reflected Mrs. Alfrick as she leaned on the gate and looked after him. "I'm not going to waste sorrow on Polly, for I do think she's got the best of it. She won't be tied down for life to this deadly dull place, nor married to the grumpiest fellow in it, barring her father. My word, girls needn't be in a hurry to get married; they little know all they're giving up. Same time, I hope John'll bring her round, for she'd be a serious loss to us all, Polly would, and to me in particular."
John walked as far as the Vicarage gate without meeting Mary, and then, for half-an-hour or more, he walked restlessly up and down under the churchyard wall. One or two people passed and stared at the industrious young blacksmith idling there; but after all, it was the second day of Carsham Fair, and the country had not yet settled down again to work. They asked him no questions, for John was not in the habit of giving an account to his neighbours of what he chose to do.
He was standing at last half hidden above the gate, in the shadow of the Vicar's trees, when he heard a step in the drive, then the quick opening and shutting of the gate, and Mary came out into the road. She did not look in his direction, but walked off quickly towards the village. In a moment John had overtaken her.