“I’m sorry you’re in trouble, Mrs. Spruce,” he said kindly; “What letter are you speaking of?  You see I don’t quite understand—­”

“Which it’s not to be expected you should, sir!” replied Mrs. Spruce with an air of triumph,—­“Considerin’ as you wer’n’t here when she left, and the Manor has been what you may call a stately ’ome of England deserted as most stately ’omes are, for more’n ten years, you couldn’t be expected to understand!”

The Reverend John looked as he felt, completely mystified.  He ‘wasn’t here when she left.’  Who was ‘she’?  With all his naturally sweet temper he began to feel slightly irritated.

“Really, Mrs. Spruce,” he said, endeavouring to throw an inflection of sternness into his mellow voice, “I must ask you to explain matters a little more clearly.  I know that the Manor has been practically shut up ever since I’ve been here,—­that you are the housekeeper in charge, and that your husband is woodman or forester there,—­but beyond this I know nothing.  So you must not talk in riddles, Mrs. Spruce,”—­here his kind smile shone out again—­“Even as a boy I was never good at guessing them!  And I am getting old now.”

“So you are, sir—­so you are!” agreed Mrs. Spruce sympathetically; “And ‘tis a shame for me to come worryin’ of you,—­for no one more truly than myself can feel pity for the weariness of the flesh, when ‘tis just a burden to the bones and no pleasure in the carryin’ of it, though you don’t put much of it on, Passon Walden, you don’t, I do assure you!  But it’s Gospel truth that some folks wears thin like a knife, while others wears thick like a pig, and there is no stopping them,—­either way bein’ the Lord’s will,—­but I’m feelin’ real okkard myself to have put you about, Passon, only as I said, I’ve been took back,—­and here’s the letter, sir, which if you will kindly glance your hi over, you will tell me whether I’ve done the right thing to call on my way down here and get in a couple of scrubbers at eighteen-pence a day, which is dear, but they won’t come for less, jest to get some of the rough dirt off the floors afore polishin’, which polishin’ will have to be done whether we will or no, for the boards are solid oak, and bein’ ancient take the shine quickly, which is a mercy, for this day week is none too far off, seein’ all that’s put upon me suddint.”

Here, being short of breath, she paused, and fumbling in a large black calico pocket which hung loosely at her side, attached to her ample waist by a string, she drew out with great care a rather large, square-looking missive, and then rising from her chair with much fluttering of her black gown and mysterious creaking sound, as of tight under-wear strained to breaking point, she held it out toward Walden, who had durng her last oratorical outburst unconsciously put his hand to his head in a daze of bewilderment.

“There is the letter sir,” she continued, in the tone of one who should say:  ’There is the warrant for execution’—­“’Short and sweet,’ as the farmer’s wife said when she ate the pig’s tail what dropped off while the animal was a-roastin’.”