"Very well." Mr Fairman then rang the bell, and the servant girl came
in.

"Where's Miss Ellen, Mary?" asked the incumbent.

"She has been in the village since breakfast, sir. Mrs Barnes sent word
that she was ill, and Miss took her the rice and sago that Dr Mayhew
ordered."

"Has Warden been this morning?"

"No, sir."

"Foolish fellow. I'll call on him. Mary, if Cuthbert the fisherman
comes, give him that bottle of port wine; but tell him not to touch a
drop of it himself. It is for his sick child, and it is committing
robbery to take it. Let him have the blanket also that was looked out
for him."

"It's gone, sir. Miss sent it yesterday."

"Very well. There is nothing more. Now, Mr Stukely, we will go."

I have said already that the first opinion which I formed of the
disposition of Mr Fairman was not a flattering one. Before he spoke a
word, I felt disappointed and depressed. My impression after our short
conversation was worse than the first. The natural effect of the scene
in which I suddenly found myself, had been to prepare my ever too
forward spirit for a man of enthusiasm and poetic temperament. Mr
Fairman was many degrees removed from warmth. He spoke to me in a sharp