“Not very long,” said Walter.
“I suppose you have made some charming sketches?” continued the clergyman. “There are pretty little spots about the village, spots well worthy of a painters brush. I used to do a little in that way myself when I was a youngster at college; but the vicar of a parish has onerous duties. I suppose at the present moment I should hardly know how to handle a brush. Are you thinking of leaving us soon, Mr. Hetherington?”
“I am not quite sure!”
“Ah! well, if you stay and would like to make use of my library, I should feel greatly honoured. It is the only thing I have to offer you, I fear; but I shall be very pleased indeed to put it at your service. It contains a few books on your own art, which might interest you.”
“You are very kind, Mr. Santley.”
“Not at all, my dear sir; I am merely neighbourly. Life would be dreary indeed if one could not be neighbourly in a place like this!”
“Mr. Santley, I have come to you for your advice.”
The clergyman, nervously dreading what was to follow, looked at his visitor with a calm smile, and answered pleasantly enough.
“My advice? My dear sir, I place it freely at your service, and myself also if I can be of the slightest use to you.”
“You can be of very great use to me.”