"It's hard—it's powerful hard!" agreed Bainton, sympathetically— "Such a wife as she'd a' made t'ye, Passon, if she'd been as she was when she come in smilin' an' trippin' across this lawn by your side, an' ye broke off a bit o' your best lilac for her! There's the very bush—all leafless twigs now, but strong an' 'elthy an' ready to bloom again! Ah! I remember that day well!—'twas the same day as ye sat under the apple tree arter she was gone an' fastened a threepenny bit with a 'ole in it to ye're watch chain! I seed it! An' I was fair mazed over that 'oley bit,—but I found out all about it!—hor-hor-hor!" and Bainton began to laugh with exceeding delight at his own perspicuity—"A few minutes' gossip with old Missis Tapple at the post-office did it!—hor-hor-hor! for she told me, bless 'er heart!—as 'ow Miss Vancourt 'ad given it t'ye for fun, as a sort o' reward like for sendin' off some telegrams for 'er! Hor- hor! There's naught like a village for findin' out everybody's little secrets, an' our village beats every other one I ever heard tell on at that kind o' work, it do reely now! I say, Passon, when they was spreadin' all the stories round about you an' Miss Vancourt, I could a' told a tale about the 'oley bit, couldn't I?"
"You could indeed!" laughed John, good-naturedly—"and yet—I suppose you didn't!"
"Not I!" said Bainton, stoutly—"I do talk a bit, but I ain't Missis Spruce, nor I ain't turned into a telephone tube yet. Mebbe I will when I'm a bit older. 'Ave ye heard, Passon, as 'ow Oliver Leach is dead?"
"Yes,—Dr. Forsyth told me last night."
"Now d'ye think a man like 'im is gone to Heaven!" demanded Bainton-
-"Honest an' true, d'ye think the Lord Almighty wants 'im?"
John was rather non-plussed. His garrulous gardener watched his face with attentive interest.
"Don't ye answer unless ye like, Passon!" he observed, sagaciously— "I don't want to make ye say things which ain't orthodox! You keep a still tongue, an' I shall understand!"
John took the hint. He 'kept a still tongue'—and turned back from the garden into the house. Bainton chuckled softly.
"Passon can't lie!" he said to himself—"He couldn't do it to save his life! That's just the best of 'im! Now if he'd begun tellin' me that he was sure that blackhearted rascal 'ad gone to keep company with the angels I'd a nigh despised im!—I would reely now!"
That same morning, when John walked up to the Manor again, he entered it as a privileged person, invested with new authority. Cicely ran to meet him, and frankly put up her face to be kissed.