And there she took the cholera, and died like an unrepentant heathen, so I've heard tell. 'Tis plain it was a judgment. And the captain, poor silly fool, instead of being duly grateful to Providence for a good riddance of bad rubbish, he took on as if his heart was broken in him, and never held up his head again ------"

"Is this Porthcarrick?" the doctor inter­rupted as a sharp turn of the road brought them to a break in the hills and a fishing village nestling between two great cliffs.

"Yes, sir, and that's the lighthouse beyond Deadman's cliff. The white house there is Mr. Hewitt's school; a lot of gentlefolk send their sons there — the Vicar's trustee for it; and that big one higher up is Heath Brow, where the Squire lives."

"And the old house by the church, all over ivy?"

"That's the Vicarage."

The next morning, when Dr. Jenkins re­turned from his first stroll through the village, he found on his table a card bearing the inscription: "Rev. Jos. Raymond, The Vicar­age, Porthcarrick, Cornwall."

"The Vicar said he'd call again," said the landlady. "He seemed in a great taking; I suppose it's that devil's limb Jack again; they do say he scared poor old Mrs. Richards fair to death on the cliff road yesterday; smashed the cart and lamed the pony and ------"

"Come, come," said the doctor, "it's not quite so bad as that. I was there myself. Has the farmer been complaining?"

"Yes, sir; they say the Vicar had a long bill to pay him this morning; he threatened to bring an action for assault and battery."

"Oh, that's absurd. I'll go round to the Vicar after dinner and tell him the truth of the story myself."