--but sent him their home-made medicines, with assurances scrawled on
paper that "it would cure Mr. Ferrol's cold, oh, absolutely."

Before the Lavilettes he smiled, and received the gifts in a debonair
way, sometimes making whimsical remarks. At the same time the jugs and
jars of cordial (whose contents varied from whiskey, molasses and
boneset, to rum, licorice, gentian and sarsaparilla roots) he carried to
his room; and he religiously tried them all by turn. Each seemed to do
him good for a few days, then to fail of effect; and he straightway tried
another, with renewed hope on every occasion, and subsequent
disappointment. He also secretly consulted the Regimental Surgeon, who
was too kindhearted to tell him the truth; and he tried his hand at
various remedies of his own, which did no more than to loosen the cough
which was breaking down his strength.

As now, he often walked down the street swinging his cane, not as though
he needed it for walking, but merely for occupation and companionship.
He did not delude the villagers by these sorrowful deceptions, but they
made believe he did. There were a few people who did not like him; but
they were of that cantankerous minority who put thorns in the bed of the
elect.

To-day, occupied with his thoughts, he walked down the main road, then
presently diverged on a side road which led past Magon Farcinelle's house
to an old disused mill, owned by Magon's father. He paused when he came
opposite Magon's house, and glanced up at the open door. He was tired,
and the coolness of the place looked inviting. He passed through the
gate, and went lightly up the path. He could see straight through the
house into the harvest-fields at the back. Presently a figure crossed
the lane of light, and made a cheerful living foreground to the blue sky