Pratt had no chance of proving this remark of the doctor's to be true, for Mrs Jeal never looked at him. She kept her wicked eyes on the kindly vicar and smiled constantly, punctuating such smiles with an occasional curtsey. "Pearl is not with you?" said Mr Tempest.
"No, bless her poor heart!" cried Mrs Jeal, "she is up at the chapel. Her favourite place is the chapel, as your reverence knows."
"She might have a worse place to haunt, Mrs Jeal. Poor soul--poor, mad, innocent child!"
"Do you call eighteen years of age childish, Mr Tempest?" asked the woman.
"No, no! I speak of her mind, her poor, weak mind. She is still a child. I beg of you to look after her, Mrs Jeal. We must make her path as pleasant as we may."
"Then I beg your reverence will tell that Barker to leave her alone."
"Barker, Barker? Ah, yes, the sexton--of course. Worthy man."
Mrs Jeal sniffed. "He won't let her stay in the chapel," she said.
"Tut! tut! This must be seen to. Poor Pearl is God's child, Mrs Jeal, so she has a right to rest in His House. Yes, yes, I'll see to it. Good-day, Mrs Jeal."
The woman dropped a curtsey, and for the first time shot a glance at Pratt, who was smiling blandly. A nervous expression crossed her face as she caught his eye. The next moment she drew herself up and passed on, crossing herself. Pratt looked after her, still smiling, then hurried to rejoin the vicar, who began to explain in his usual wandering way.
"A good woman, Mrs Jeal, a good woman," he said. "For some years she has had charge of Pearl Darry, whom she rescued from her cruel father."
"Is that the insane girl?" said Pratt, idly.
"Do not talk of one so afflicted in that way, Mr Pratt. Pearl may not be quite right in her head, but she is sane enough to conduct herself properly. If the fact that she is not all herself reached Portfront"--the principal town of the county--"it is possible that the authorities might wish to shut her up, and that would be the death of Pearl. No, no!" said the good vicar, "let her have a fair share of God's beautiful earth, and live to a happy old age. In this quiet place we can afford one natural."
"Like the village idiot we read about in Scotch tales," said Pratt.
"Just so, Mr Pratt. In _Waverley_ there is such a one. Pearl Darry is quite harmless, and really has a very beautiful nature. Mrs Jeal is much to be commended for her charity."