The poor old woman had been
ill for a long time, and Alice was surprised to see her out. Leaving the
inscriptions, she went across the churchyard.
"Ay, my dear young lady, I be up again, and thankful enough to say it;
and I thought as the day's so fine, I'd step out a bit," she said, in
answer to the salutation. An intelligent woman, and quite sufficiently
cultivated for her work--cleaning the church and washing the parson's
surplices. "I thought John was in the church here, and came to speak to
him; but he's not, I find; the door's locked."
"I saw John down by Mrs. Ram's just now; he was talking to Nott, the
carpenter," observed Alice. "Nancy, I was trying to make out some of
those old names; but it is difficult to do so," she added, pointing to
the crowded corner.
"Ay, I see, my dear," nodded Nancy. "_His_ be worn a'most right off. I
think I'd have it done again, an' I was you."
"Have what done again?"
"The name upon your poor papa's gravestone."
"The _what_?" exclaimed Alice. And Nancy repeated her words.
Alice stared at her. Had Mrs. Cale's wits vanished in her illness? "Do
you know what you are saying, Nancy?" she cried; "I don't. What had papa
to do with this place? I think you must be wandering."
Nancy stared in her turn. "Sure, it's not possible," she said slowly,
beginning to put two and two together, "that you don't know who you are,
Miss West? That your papa died here? and lies buried here?"
Alice West turned white, and sat down on the opposite bench to Nancy.
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