"Well, nurse, I should hardly like to go so far as that," said the vicar's housekeeper, standing up as far as her conscience allowed for her native place; "but there is a great deal of that too. But our chief trouble is the water. Nearly all the wells in the place are condemned by the sanitary inspectors, and we really don't know where to get water fit to drink."
"Dear me, that is bad!" said nurse. "What are your landlords about? Why isn't something done?"
"Oh, dear me, it's no fault of the landlords," said Mrs. Crowe, rather warmly. "It is one gentleman owns the whole place, but he has been out at the war the last two years, and his agent has been doing his best, but up to within the last fortnight there had been no possibility of finding any water. And most of the springs have gone dry."
"You say 'up to the last fortnight,' Mrs. Crowe. Do I understand that you have had some water found since then?"
"Well, yes; at least so we hope and trust there will be when the wells are dug."
And then she proceeded to give nurse a full and highly-coloured description of the "miracle," as some of the people persisted in calling it.
"Oh yes, I have heard of dowsers," said nurse. "It's a wonderful thing, and a good many people don't believe in it. But seeing is believing, and from what you say I hope we shall soon see a proof of the power. But we are lingering too long over our tea and chat. I must go up to the doctor's house, for he evidently wants to see me this evening, and I won't waste any more time. Perhaps one of you will show me the way!"
"I will," said Mrs. Crowe. "Indeed, it is time I was home too; the vicar will be in and wanting his supper."
So the two women went off together, and Milly was left to clear up the tea-things and get a meal ready, for her grandfather would not be in, he told her, till eight o'clock.