"No, sir—it's Oldfield. His mother's name—'cause, of course, he were born out of wedlock. Your father and mother wedded later on."
In the silence that followed Miriam heard the beating of Michael's heart. He rose slowly, staring about him from one to the other.
"It's not—true?" he said questioningly. "It's——"
Miriam rose at his side and laid both hands on his arm.
"It's true, Michael," she said. "It's true. Your father told me ten minutes before he died."
Michael looked down at her, and suddenly put his arm round her and kissed her.
"Come away, Miriam," he said, as if the others were shadows. "Come away. Let's go home—the child'll be wanting us."
CHAPTER IV
LITTLE MISS PARTRIDGE
Next to the church and the King George—with possibly the exception of the blacksmith's shop, where most of the idlers gathered to gossip of an afternoon, especially in winter—Miss Partridge's general store was the chief institution in Orchardcroft. To begin with, it was the only house of a mercantile character in the place, and it would have fared ill with any one rash enough to have set up an opposition business to it; to end with, its proprietor was so good-natured that she made no objection to the good wives of the village if they lingered over their purchases to chat with each other or with her. Life in Orchardcroft was leisurely, and an hour could easily be spent in fetching a stone of flour or a quarter of a pound of tea from Miss Partridge's emporium. And, as Miss Partridge often remarked, the women were better employed in exchanging views at her counter than the men were in arguing at the tap of the King George.