Accordingly at luncheon he solemnly announced his intention of leaving the vicarage on the morrow.  Mrs. Ambrose received the news with an equanimity which made John suspicious, for she had heretofore constantly pressed him to extend his holiday, expressing the greatest solicitude for his health.  She now sat stony as a statue and said very coldly that she was sorry he had to go so soon, but that, of course, it could not be helped.  The vicar was moved by his wife’s apparent indifference.  John, he said, might at least have stayed till the end of the promised week; but at this suggestion Mrs. Ambrose darted at her husband a look so full of fierce meaning, that the vicar relapsed into silence, returning to the consideration of bread and cheese and a salad of mustard and cress.  John saw the look and was puzzled; he did not believe the vicar capable of going straight to Mrs. Ambrose with the story of the last night’s interview.  But he was already so much disturbed that he did not attempt to explain to himself what was happening.

But when lunch was over, and he realised that he had declared his intention of leaving Billingsfield on the next day, he saw that if he meant to see Mrs. Goddard before he left he must go to her at once.  He therefore waited until he heard Mr. and Mrs. Ambrose talking together in the sitting-room and then slipped quietly out by the garden to the road.

He had no idea what he should say when he met Mrs. Goddard.  He meant, of course, to let her understand, or at least suppose, that he was leaving suddenly on her account, but he did not know in the least how to accomplish it.  He trusted that the words necessary to him would come into his head spontaneously.  His heart beat fast and he was conscious that he blushed as he rang the bell of the cottage.  Almost before he knew where he was, he found himself ushered into the little drawing-room and in the presence of the woman he now felt sure that he loved.  But to his great annoyance she was not alone; Nellie was with her.  Mrs. Goddard sat near the fire, reading a review; Nellie was curled up in a corner of the deep sofa with a book, her thick brown curls falling all over her face and hands as she read.  Mrs. Goddard extended her hand, without rising.

“How do you do, Mr. Short?” she said.  The young man stood hat in hand in the middle of the room, feeling very nervous.  It was strange that he should experience any embarrassment now, considering how many hours he had spent in her company during the last few days.  He blushed and stammered.

“How do you do?  I, in fact—­I have come to say good-bye,” he blurted out.

“So soon?” said Mrs. Goddard calmly.  “Pray sit down.”

“Are you really going away, Mr. Short?” asked Nellie.  “We are so sorry to lose you.”  The child had caught the phrase from a book she had been reading, and thought it very appropriate.  Her mother smiled.

“Yes—­as Nellie says—­we are sorry to lose you,” she said.  “I thought you were to stay until Monday?”