is lost. This is the sort of thing I enjoy--of course it is very
sad--but it is a tussle with death. I know a good deal about
medicine, and Grierson has more than once complimented me on my
diagnosis--he said it was masterly--forgive a touch of vanity! But
you mustn't lose your walk. Maud, dear, you take Howard out--I am
sure he won't mind for once. You could walk round the village, or
you could go and find Jack. Now then, back to my post! You must
forgive me, Howard, but my flock are paramount."

"But won't you want me, papa?" said Maud. "Couldn't I be of use?"

"Certainly not," said the Vicar; "there's nothing whatever to be
done till Grierson arrives--just to ward off the ministrations of
the relatives. There she must lie--I feel no doubt it is syncope;
every symptom points to syncope--poor soul! A very interesting
case."

He fled from the room like a whirlwind, and they heard him run down
the garden. The two looked at each other and smiled. "Poor Mrs.
Darby!" said Maud, "she is such a nice old woman; but papa will do
everything that can be done for her; he really knows all about it,
and he is splendid in illness--he never loses his head, and he is
very gentle; he has saved several lives in the village by knowing
what to do. Would you really like to go out with me? I'll be ready
in a minute."

"Let us go up on the downs," said Howard, "I should like that very
much. I daresay we shall hear Jack shooting somewhere."

Maud was back in a moment; in a rough cloak and cap she looked