'Well, I don't quite know yet, miss, but I thinks I shall live with
my daughter in London. She's married a cabinetmaker in Great Ormond
Street: they let lodgings, too. Maybe you know that part?'

'No, I do not.'

'You don't live in London, then?'

'Yes, I do. I came from London this morning.'

'The Lord have mercy on us, did you though! I suppose, then, you're
a-visitin' here. I know most of the folk hereabouts.'

'No: I am going back this afternoon.'

Her interrogator was puzzled and her curiosity stimulated. Presently
she looked in Madge's face.

'Ah! my poor dear, you'll excuse me, I don't mean to be forward, but
I see you've been a-cryin': there's somebody buried here.'

'No.'

That was all she could say. The walk from Letherhead, and the
excitement had been too much for her and she fainted. Mrs Caffyn,
for that was her name, was used to fainting fits. She was often 'a
bit faint' herself, and she instantly loosened Madge's gown, brought
out some smelling-salts and also a little bottle of brandy and water.
Something suddenly struck her. She took up Madge's hand: there was