"The doctor," said John, sharply. "Has she been ill?"
"No, no."
"What has he to do with Lady Mary?" said John.
His displeasure was so great that the colour rose in his clean-shaven face, and did not escape little Sarah's observation, for all her downcast lashes.
"Somebody must go and see her," said Sarah; "and you were away. And the canon is just nobody, always bothering her for subscriptions; though he is very fond of her, like everybody else," she added, with compunction. "Dear me, Mr. Crewys, how fast you are walking!"
John had unconsciously quickened his pace so much that she had some ado to keep up with him without actually running.
"I beg your pardon," he said.
"It is so hot, and the hill is steep, and I am rather fat. I dare say I shall fine down as I get older," said Sarah, apologetically. "It would be dreadful if I grew up like mamma. But I am more like my father, thank goodness, and he is simply a mass of hard muscle. I dare say even I could beat you on the flat. But not up this drive. Doesn't it look pretty in the spring?"
"It was very different when I left Barracombe," said John.
He looked round with all a Londoner's appreciation.