morning; she has had a terrible shock.”

“She must have had,” said Harry Garlett; but he did not speak with his usual hearty kindliness.

The doctor looked at him rather hard. Then he again put his hand on the younger man’s shoulder.

“Look here, my friend, I know you’ve been a good husband to that poor soul. But you’re still a young man, and a new chapter of your life has begun.”

“I don’t feel like that,” muttered Harry Garlett in a low voice.

“Of course you don’t! But still it’s the truth.”

He added, measuring his words: “If I were you I should go away at once, as soon as the funeral is over, for a real holiday—such a holiday as you’ve never had. Don’t come back here till Christmas! Dodson’s getting a very old man; you’ll soon either have to manage the business yourself or get another partner, so take a holiday while you can get one.”

42

CHAPTER IV

Poor Emily Garlett’s funeral took place on a beautiful bright spring morning. The broad sunny street of Terriford was filled with motors and carriages, and quite a concourse of people had come out from Grendon, as well as from the surrounding villages, to testify their respect for popular Harry Garlett, both as famous cricketer and as a generous employer of labour.

Every one saw him, for he followed his wife’s coffin on foot. So also did the various other people closely concerned with the departed lady.

Agatha Cheale was ashen pale, but looked very attractive in her close, nunlike bonnet and severely plain black dress. The few who knew him noticed that Miss Cheale’s brother was not there; but Mrs. Warren could have told them that her lodger had left the farm two days ago, so recovered in health, so blithesome, so merry, that, though still unnaturally thin, he was scarcely the same man as the pale, coughing, queer, and clever gentleman who had come to her last February.

Dr. and Mrs. Maclean, accompanied by their niece, walked a little apart from Miss Prince and Miss Cheale. Lucy was not with the group of servants all clad in handsome black at their master’s expense. She had left the Thatched House the afternoon after Mrs. Garlett’s death, and to-day she had elected to stay at home to mind the farm. This had enabled Mrs. Warren to 

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