He was shown into a room with great rafters across the ceiling and walls lined with books. At a table in the centre, at his desk, sat the vicar. He was a man something over forty, with a handsome, clever face, but with a look of abstraction in his eyes not unusual in one who lives far away from the world and its doings. This morning he had two companions, a big sheep-dog and Jessie, the latter curled up in an arm-chair deep in her book.
"A man wants to see you, sir," said the woman servant, opening the door just wide enough to put in her head.
"Show him in, Mary," answered the vicar; and a big man in a rough brown jerkin, leggings, coarse stockings, and hob-nailed shoes entered, holding his cap in his hand. He was a man of about five-and-thirty, with a mass of brown hair and a somewhat reddish beard.
He came up and stood at the vicar's table. As he did so he laid a letter before him.
"My mistress has sent me with this," he said; "will you please read it, sir, and give me your answer."
The vicar looked at the man.
"It seems to me I have seen you before," he said.
The man shook his head.
"It is many a long day since I have been in these parts," he said.
"Then you have been in these parts before?" asked the vicar.