“I think I’ll be goin’,” said Mr. Foyle with sudden desperation. “I thought you did step out to this ’ere churchyard with another intention.”
Mrs. Sibley glanced at him in mild surprise.
“Ye didn’t chance to get no letter this marnin’, I s’pose?” continued the sexton with some heat.
“A letter!” repeated Mrs. Sibley.
“E-es, the letter what I did put in your stockin’ for a surprise,” added John emphatically.
Mrs. Sibley’s melancholy vanished as by magic; she smiled on the sexton, not only affably, but positively coyly.
“An’ it was a surprise!” she exclaimed, “it was indeed. E-es, Mr. Foyle.”
She paused again, and then, all scruples apparently vanquished by the delicacy of John’s attitude, she extended a bony hand from beneath the folds of her black shawl.
“That’s why I’m here,” she said.