"When I seed her first,"--he said to himself, pathetically, while hoeing the weeds out of the paths in the rectory garden, "When me an' old Josey went up to get 'er to save the Five Sisters, she seemed as sweet as 'oney,--an' she's done many a kind thing for the village since. But I don't care for 'er friends. They've changed her like--they've made her forget all about us! An' as for Passon, she don't come nigh 'im no more, an' he don't go nigh 'er. Seems to me 'tis all a muddle an' a racket since the motor-cars went bouncin' about an' smellin' like p'ison--'tain't wot it used to be. Howsomever, let's 'ope to the Lord it'll soon be over. If wot they all sez is true, there'll be a weddin' 'ere soon, Passon'll marry Miss Vancourt to the future Dook, an' away they'll go, an' Abbot's Manor'll be shut up again as it used to afore. An' the onny change we'll 'ave will be Mr. Stanways for agent 'stead of Oliver Leach-- which is a blessin'--for Stanways is a decent, kindly man, an' Oliver Leach--well now!" And he paused in his hoeing, fixing his round eyes meditatively on a wall where figs were ripening in the sun--"Blest if I can make out Oliver Leach! One day he's with old Putty Leveson--another he's drunk as a lord in the gutter--an' another he's butterfly huntin' with a net, lookin' like a fool--but allus about the place--allus about--an' he's got a face that a kid would scream at seein' it in the dark. I wish he'd find another situation in a fur-off neighbourhood!"
Here, looking towards the lawn, he saw his master walking slowly up and down on the grass in front of his study window, with head bent and hands loosely clasped behind his back, apparently lost in thought.
"Passon ain't hisself,--seems all gone to pieces like," he mused-- "He don't do nothin' in the garden,--he ain't a bit partikler or fidgetty--an all he cares about is the bits o' glass which comes on approval from all parts o' the world for the rose window. I sez to him t'other day--'Ain't ye got enough old glass yet, Passon?'--and he sez all absent-minded like, 'No, Bainton--not yet! There are many difficulties to be conquered--one must have patience. It's almost like piecing a life together,' sez he--'one portion is good--another bad--one's got the true colour--the other's false--and so on--it's hard work to get all the little bits of love an' charity an' kindness to fit into their proper places. Don't you understand?' 'No, Passon,' sez I, 'I can't say as I do!' Then he laughed, but sad like--an' went away with his 'ead down as he's got it now. Something's wrong with him--an' it's all since Miss Vancourt came. She's a real worry to 'im I 'spect,--an' it's true enough the place ain't like what it was a month ago. Yet there's no denyin' she's a sweet little lady for all one can say!"