The vicar stepped down amid dead silence; his words had not had time to sink in. The chairman rose.
"Gentlemen," he said, "my mind is made up. Mr Wilman has free leave to come over my land and find us water where he can. I can't let ignorance or blind prejudice stand in his way. I completely endorse all the vicar's words."
"And I too," and a burly Nonconformist tradesman stepped up; "and I'll give you twenty pounds towards the expenses of sinking the well."
Ten minutes after this sixty pounds had been subscribed by the influential people present. The meeting was broken up, and the water-finder was casting his eye once more over the audience to select his companions in the quest.
"Mr. Barlow will come with me, and I should be glad if you would too, sir," he said to the vicar, who was making his way out.
"I only wish I could," he replied heartily--"it would give me the greatest pleasure; but I have got to take two funerals this afternoon, and I must run home and get something to eat first. Many thanks, all the same, and I need scarcely say how anxiously I shall look for the result of your trial."
He hurried off as he spoke, and Mr. Barlow and the water-finder walked slowly up the street behind him, and disappeared into the former's house.
An hour later they emerged and walked up the street.
It will readily be imagined that the "dowser," as he called himself, was not allowed to go on his quest accompanied only by Mr. Barlow. He was followed, as was only natural, at a fairly respectable distance, by by a selection of all the idle boys and girls in Willowton, and for once Geo Lummis had deserted his friends on the bridge, and followed the little crowd leisurely in the rear, with his hands in his pockets, and his hat tilted at the back of his head.
The water-finder carried in his hand a freshly-cut hazel rod, which he had brought from Mr. Barlow's garden. It was about two feet long, and forked at one end. He held it, point downwards, straight in front of him, with a "prong" in each hand, and he walked at a fair pace, his eyes fixed on the rod, and preserving a dead silence.
As he went the little procession followed him up the main street over the bridge nearly as far as Gravel-pit Lane. Here the lookers-on noticed the hazel twig jerk outwards unmistakably. Mr. Barlow, who was walking abreast of him, sent an inquiring glance at him.