“Why, there, too, odd things have been happening.  Milligan has just got engaged, and, to tell you the truth, to a girl I shouldn’t have thought he’d ever have looked twice at.  It’s a Miss Parker, the daughter of a City man.  Pretty enough if you like, but as far as I can see, no more brains than a teapot, and I can’t for the life of me understand how a man like Milligan—.  But of course, it makes no difference; our work goes on.  We have an enormous correspondence.”

“Does Miss Parker interest herself in it?” asked Will.

“Oh, yes, in a way, you know; as far as she can.  She has turned vegetarian, of course.  To tell you the truth, Warburton, it vexes me a good deal.  I didn’t think Milligan could do such a silly thing.  I hope he’ll get married quickly.  Just at present, the fact is, he isn’t quite himself.”

Again Warburton was subdued by laughter.

“Well, I thought things might have been happening whilst I was away,” he said, “and I wasn’t mistaken.  Luckily, I have come back with a renewed gusto for the shop.  By the bye, I’m going to keep that secret no longer.  I’m a grocer, and probably shall be a grocer all my life, and the sooner people know it the better.  I’m sick of hiding away.  Tell Milligan the story; it will amuse Miss Parker, And, talking of Miss Parker, do you know that Norbert Franks is married?  His old love—­Miss Elvan.  Of course it was the sensible thing to do.  They’re off to Tyrol.  As soon as I have their address, I shall write and tell him all about Jollyman’s.”

“Of course, if you really feel you must,” said Godfrey, with reluctance.  “But remember that I still hope to recover the money.  Old Strangwyn has the reputation of being an honourable man—­”

“Like Brutus,” broke in Warburton, cheerfully.  “Let us hope.  Of course we will hope.  Hope springs eternal—­”

Days went by, and at length the desired letter came back from St. Jean de Luz.  Seeing at a glance that it was from his sister, Will reproached himself for having let more than a month elapse without writing to St. Neots.  Of his recent “holiday” he had no intention of saying a word.  Jane wrote a longer letter than usual, and its tenor was disquieting.  Their mother had not been at all well lately; Jane noticed that she was becoming very weak.  “You know how she dreads to give trouble, and cannot bear to have any one worry about her.  She has seen Dr. Edge twice in the last few days, but not in my presence, and I feel sure that she has forbidden him to tell me the truth about her.  I dare not let her guess how anxious I am, and have to go on in my usual way, just doing what I can for her comfort.  If you would come over for a day, I should feel very glad.  Not having seen mother for some time, you would be better able than I to judge how she looks.”  After reading this Will’s self-reproaches were doubled.  At once he set off for St. Neots.

On arriving at The Haws, he found Jane gardening, and spoke with her before he went in to see his mother.