Presently, a shabby hat, with an erratic
feather in it, rose above the wall of the
churchyard, and little Miss Turtle, Mrs.
Meggitt's governess, appeared, with a parcel
in one hand and a basket in the other.
She walked straight up to Maud, and then
stopped.

"Good afternoon, Miss Desmond," said
Miss Turtle, and looked into Maud's face
with a demure expression, half sly, half shy.

"Oh, I—I did not see you, Miss Turtle.
How do you do?"

"I startled you, I'm afraid. I hope
you're not subject to palpitation, Miss
Desmond? I am. Oh dear me, I am
quite tired! Would you allow me to seat
myself here for a few minutes and rest?"

Maud smiled at the humility of the
request. The wall of St. Gildas's churchyard
was certainly as free to Miss Turtle as
to herself. She made room for the little
governess beside her. Miss Turtle first
disposed her parcel and basket on the top
of the rough wall, and then made a queer
little spring—something like the attempt
to fly, of a matronly barn-door hen unused to
quit terra firma—and seated herself beside
them. Maud was by no means delighted
at thus encountering Miss Turtle. But
she was too gentle and too generous to risk
hurting the little woman's feelings by at
once getting up to depart. So she made
up her mind to sit awhile and endure Miss
Turtle's discourse as best she might. They
had met before, since Maud's return to
Shipley. Miss Turtle and her two pupils,
Farmer Meggitt's daughters, had saluted
Maud as she came out of church on the
first Sunday after her arrival at the
vicarage, having previously devoured her with
their eyes during the service.

"And how, if I may venture to inquire,
is our respected vicar?" said Miss Turtle.

"Mr. Levincourt is quite well, thank
you."

"Is he, really? Ah! Many changes since
we last had the honour of seeing you in
Shipley, Miss Desmond."

"Indeed! If you did not say so, I should
suppose, from what I have seen and heard
hitherto, that there were, on the contrary,
very few changes."

"Oh dear me! Mrs. Sack—you have
heard about Mrs. Sack?"

"No. Is she ill?"

"Joined a Wesleyan congregation at
Shipley Magna. Gone over to Dissent, root
and branch! I am surprised that you had
not heard of it."

Maud explained that Mrs. Sack's conversion
to Methodism had not been widely
discussed in London.

"And she's not the only one, Miss
Desmond," pursued the governess.

"Indeed!"

"Oh, no, not the only one by any means.
A considerable number of the congregation
of St. Gildas's have gone over too. They
say that the dissenting gentleman who
preaches at Shipley Magna (he is not,
strictly speaking, a gentleman either, Miss
Desmond, being in the retail grocery line,
and in a small way of business) is so very
earnest. I hope you will not think I did
wrong, but the truth is, I did go to an evening
meeting at their chapel once, with Mrs.
Sack, and I must say he was most eloquent.
I really thought at one time that he would
have a stroke, or something. The glass in
the windows jingled again, and I came
home with a splitting headache."

"He must have been extraordinarily
eloquent, indeed," said Maud, quietly.

"Oh, he was! But then, as I say, where
are your principles, if you let yourself be
tempted away from your church like that?
Didn't you notice, Miss Desmond, how thin
the congregation was, last Sunday?"

Maud was obliged to confess that she had
noticed it.

"Then, there's Mr. Snowe, junior."

"He has not joined the Methodists, has
he, Miss Turtle?"

"Oh, no. Quite the contrary. But he
is engaged to be married, I believe, and
the lady hates music. Just fancy that,
Miss Desmond, and he such a confirmed
amachure."

Little Miss Turtle shook her head in a
melancholy manner, as though she had been
reluctantly accusing Herbert Snowe of
"confirmed" gambling or "confirmed"
drunkenness.

"Then," said Maud, "I am afraid we may
lose Mr. Herbert Snowe's assistance at the
weekly practisings in the school-house."

"Practisings! Oh dear, Miss Desmond,
the singing-class is nothing now; nothing
to what it used to be. Mr. Mugworthy, he
does what he can. But you know, Miss
Desmond, what's the use of the best
intentions when you have to contend with a
voice like—there! Just like that, for all the
world!"

And Miss Turtle screwed up her mouth,
and inclined her head towards the distant
common, whence came at that moment the
tremulous, long-drawn ba-a-a, of some
fleecy mother of the flock.

Maud could not help laughing as she