“Don’t run away from me, you naughty, unfeeling man,” she began, with an elephantine attempt at archness. “I was going to ask you to take me down to the schoolrooms, but I shall have to go alone if you fly away from me like this.”
Mr. Todd, fervently wishing that flying were just then among his accomplishments, felt that now, while he was in the humour, was the time to free himself, finally if possible, from these embarrassing attentions.
“I am sorry I cannot give myself the pleasure of accompanying you, Miss Cope. I have several sick persons and others to call upon in different parts of the parish, and my duties will fully occupy the whole of my morning. I’m afraid I don’t happen to be going in the direction of the schools, so I must say ‘good morning’ here.”
And the curate raised his hat and passed on, fortifying himself with the reflection that what might in an ordinary case have been rudeness was in this instance the merest and most necessary self-defence.
“a viperous look
in her face.”
Miss Cope stood looking after his retreating figure with a viperous look in her face, and with a feeling of intense rage, which she promised herself to translate into action at the very earliest opportunity.
Early in the following week, the Vicar started for London, and his curate was left in sole charge of the parish. That there was something amiss with Mr. Todd was evident to all who came in contact with him, both before and after the Vicar’s departure. His former geniality seemed to have quite deserted him, and he looked worried, anxious, and ill. The ladies of S. Athanasius were greatly concerned at the change, and speculated wildly as to its cause. There was one among them, however, who made no comment upon the subject, and appeared, in fact, to ignore the curate’s existence altogether. Whatever might be the source of that gentleman’s troubles, he had, at any rate, freed himself from the unwelcome advances of Miss Caroline Cope.
The third morning after the Vicar’s departure, his assistant was sent for to visit a sick parishioner who lived just outside Great Wabbleton, on the high road to Grubley. The summons was an imperative one; but he obeyed it with a curious and unwonted reluctance. As he reached the outskirts of the town and struck into the Grubley road, his distaste for his errand seemed to increase, and he looked uneasily from side to side with a strange, furtive glance, in singular contrast to his usual steady gaze and cheerful smile. He reached his destination, however, without adventure, and remained for some time at the invalid’s bedside. His return journey was destined to be more eventful. He had not proceeded far on his way back to Great Wabbleton, when a showily-dressed woman, who was passing him on the road, stopped short and regarded him with a prolonged and half-puzzled stare that ended in a sudden cry of amazed recognition. “Well—I’m blest—it’s Tommy!”
