"But he's very strict about making it plain that it's you, miss, they
have to thank for what he does."
"That is not quite just," said Miss Vanderpoel. "He and Mr. Penzance
fought on the field. I only supplied some of the ammunition."
"The county doesn't think of him as it did even a year ago, miss," said
Tewson rather smugly. "He was very ill thought of then among the gentry.
It's wonderful the change that's come about. If he should fall ill
there'll be a deal of sympathy."
"I hope there is no question of his falling ill," said Miss Vanderpoel.
Mr. Tewson lowered his voice confidentially. This was really his most
valuable item of news.
"Well, miss," he admitted, "I have heard that he's been looking very bad
for a good bit, and it was told me quite private, because the doctors
and the vicar don't want the people to be upset by hearing it--that for
a week he's not been well enough to make his rounds."
"Oh!" The exclamation was a faint one, but it was an exclamation.
"I hope that means nothing really serious," Miss Vanderpoel added.
"Everyone will hope so."
"Yes, miss," said Mr. Tewson, deftly twisting the string round the
package he was tying up for her. "A sad reward it would be if he lost
his life after doing all he has done.
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