"Yes, indeed, sir," said Janet, "the gentlefolks be very fond of it, and very often come here from all parts about."
"Only the gentlefolks?" inquired her visitor. "I thought I heard that others came to avail themselves of the holy spring."
"Some folks don't believe in it now, sir—more's the pity. It was of great value in the old time."
"Why should it lose its virtue, Mrs Wheedler? If we had still the faith, it would have still the power."
Janet looked towards Mr Swallowlies, to judge whether he was in jest or earnest; but, on catching the face of wonderment with which he gazed at the well, and the unmistakable sincerity with which he spoke, the old woman, who had been a fortune-teller in her youth, involuntarily winked her blear eye, and curled up the corners of her mouth.
"It ain't quite falled away yet, sir. This here cat as ever you sees—here, Tabby dear, get up and show yourself to the gentles—this here cat, sir, a week ago, was took so ill of the palsy that it shook all over like a leaf. I thought it was agoing to die; but at last, thinks I, why shouldn't St Toper cure she, as he cures so many as have fits? And so, sir, I goes and fetches a little water, and flings it on Tabby's face, and the moment she felt the water she stops the shaking, and walks about as well as ever."
"Had she had any breakfast that morning?"
"No, sir, fasting from all but air; I gave her nothing from the night before, when she supped on a mouse."
Mr Swallowlies stooped down and laid his hand on the cat, which was purring and rubbing its fur against his leg.
"A strange instance this," he said, "of the efficacy of the ancient faith."