"Was it?" said John Ayliffe, thoughtfully. "How long did he know he was dying?"
"Not much above a week, sir," said Mrs. Best; "for till Mr. Dixwell told him, he always thought he would get better. We knew it a long time however, for he had been in a decline a year, and his father had been laying by money for the funeral three months before he died. So when it was all over we put him by quite comfortable."
"Put him by!" said John Ayliffe.
"Yes, sir, we buried him, I mean," answered Mrs. Best. "That's our way of talking. But Mr. Dixwell had been to see him long before. He knew that he was dying, and he wouldn't tell him as long as there was any hope; for he said it was not necessary—that he had never seen any one better prepared to meet his Maker than poor Robert, and that it was no use to disturb him about the matter till it came very near."
"Ah, Dixwell is a wise man and a good man," said John Ayliffe. "I should very much like to see him."
"I can run for him in a minute sir," said Dame Best, but John Ayliffe replied, in a faint voice, "No, no, don't, don't on any account."
In the mean while, the very person of whom they were speaking had descended from the up-stairs room, finished his breakfast in order to give the surgeon time to fulfil his errand, and then putting on his three-cornered hat had walked out to ascertain at what house Mr. Short had stopped. The first place at which he inquired was the farm-house at which the good surgeon had stabled his horse on the preceding night. Entering by the kitchen door, he found the good woman of the place bustling about amongst pots and pans and maidservants, and other utensils, and though she received him with much reverence, she did not for a moment cease her work.
"Well, Dame," he said, "I hope you're all well here."
"Quite well, your reverence—Betty, empty that pail."
"Why, I've seen Mr. Short come down here," said the parson, "and I thought somebody might be ill."