Clare walked on and did her errand. The Vicar was also visiting the old woman in question and he and Clare walked a few yards together afterwards before their ways parted. They stood still for a minute discussing parish affairs.

“Jones has broken out again, I’m afraid,” said the Vicar. “And I had such hopes after he had volunteered, of his own accord, to take the pledge.”

“Disgusting,” said Clare crisply.

“It seems so to us,” said Mr. Wilmot, “but we must remember that it is very hard to put ourselves in his place and realize his temptation. The desire for drink is unaccountable to us, but we all have our own temptations, and thus we can understand.”

“I suppose we have,” said Clare uncertainly.

The Vicar glanced at her.

“Some of us have the good fortune to be very little tempted,” he said gently. “But even to those people their hour comes. Watch and pray, remember, that ye enter not into temptation.”

Then bidding her goodbye, he walked briskly away. Clare went on thoughtfully, and presently she almost bumped into Sir Gerald Lee.

“Hullo, Clare. I was hoping to run across you. You look jolly fit. What a colour you’ve got.”

The colour had not been there a minute before. Lee went on:

“As I say, I was hoping to run across you. Vivien’s got to go off to Bournemouth for the weekend. Her mother’s not well. Can you dine with us Tuesday instead of tonight?”

“Oh, yes! Tuesday will suit me just as well.”

“That’s all right, then. Splendid. I must hurry along.”

Clare went home to find her one faithful domestic standing on the doorstep looking out for her.

“There you are, Miss. Such a to-do. They’ve brought Rover home. He went off on his own this morning, and a car ran clean over him.”

Clare hurried to the dog’s side. She adored animals, and Rover was her especial darling. She felt his legs one by one, and then ran her hands over his body. He groaned once or twice and licked her hand.

“If there’s any serious injury, it’s internal,” she said at last. “No bones seem to be broken.”

“Shall we get the vet to see him, Miss?”

Clare shook her head. She had little faith in the local vet.

“We’ll wait until tomorrow. He doesn’t seem to be in great pain, and his gums are a good colour, so there can’t be much internal bleeding. Tomorrow, if I don’t like the look of him, I’ll take him over to Skippington in the car and let Reeves have a look at him. He’s far and away the best man.”

On the following day, Rover seemed weaker, and Clare duly carried out her project. The small town of Skippington was about forty miles away, a long run, but Reeves, the vet there, was celebrated for many miles round.