“No, no, Rounds,” said the doctor, sadly; “you are not the sort of man to fail us in a pinch.”
“Thankye, doctor,” said the bluff fellow, holding out his hand. “Same to you. I aren’t forgot the way you come and doctored my missus when she was so bad, and you not a reg’lar doctor, but out o’ practice. But nivver you fear; we’ll find the lad. I shan’t go to bed, but get back and light a pipe. I can think best then; and mebbe I’ll think out wheer the young gent’s gone.”
“Thank you, Rounds,” said the doctor. “Perhaps we had all better go and try and think it out, for Heaven grant that it may not be so bad as we fear.”
“Amen to that!” cried the miller, “as clerk’s not here. And say, parson, I’ll goo and get key of owd Chakes, and, at the first streak o’ daylight, I’ll goo to belfry, and pull the rope o’ the ting-tang to rouse people oop. You’ll know what it means.”
He went off; and the rest of the party, preceded by Joseph Bruff having sought his cottage, walked slowly back, all troubled by the same feeling, omitting Distin, that they had done wrong in giving up so easily, but at the same time feeling bound to confess that they could have done no good by continuing the search.
As they reached the end of the rectory lane and the doctor said “good-night,” the rector urged him to come up to the rectory and lie down on a couch till morning, but Doctor Lee shook his head.
“No,” he said, “it is quite time I was back. There is someone sorrowing there more deeply than we can comprehend. Till daybreak, Syme. Good-night.”
Macey stood listening to the doctor’s retiring footsteps and then ran after him.
“Hi! Macey!” cried Gilmore.
“Mr Macey, where are you going?” cried the rector.