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He was about to ask the identity of the friend when they were interrupted by Jenny, the maid, calling them into dinner, and over the meal the subject of the villagers and their 'offerings' was raised.

'They are good people, sir,.' said Dr Trewain. 'And they are just deeply grateful to have a new vicar.'

'Was my predecessor so very unpopular, then?' asked Reverend Sackville cheerfully.

'No, not at all,.' said Dr Trewain. 'Reverend Benchley was much loved and greatly respected . . .' His voice trailed away.

'Yes?' said Robert's mother, sensing the doctor was not quite telling them everything.

Dr Trewain smiled sadly and told them that towards the end of his life, Reverend Benchley had changed somewhat and that his death was preceded by bouts of rather unpredictable behaviour.

'Poor man,.' said Mrs Sackville.

'Unpredictable in what way, may I ask?' said Robert's father.

Dr Trewain sat back in his chair.

'I am afraid that Reverend Benchley was subject to a kind of morbid obsession. He was a bachelor, as you know. I think perhaps he had spent too much time in his own company. I know a little of the way that can shape a man's thoughts.'

'You said a "morbid obsession", Dr Trewain,.' said Mrs Sackville. 'An obsession with what exactly?'

'An obsession with a notorious previous occupant of this house,.' he replied.

'The house had a notorious occupant?.' said Mrs Sackville. 'I'm intrigued, Doctor.'

Dr Trewain apologised, saying that he had assumed that the bishop might have mentioned something of the vicarage's past history.

'Please, do go on,.' said Mrs Sackville. 'I promise I will not be shocked. Vicars' wives are a fairly unshockable lot.'

'Very well, then. I suppose there's no harm -'

There was a sharp knock at the door and Jenny the maid entered.

'Beg' pardon, sir, madam, but there's a lad come from a Mrs Hunter, whose been taken terrible bad and needs Dr Trewain urgent.'

'I'm terribly sorry,.' said Dr Trewain. 'I will have to go, I'm afraid. Mrs Hunter has been very ill of late.'

'Of course,.' said Reverend Sackville. 'We must go where and when our work takes us, Doctor. We are alike in that respect.'

Dr Trewain nodded, and thanking them for the meal and their company, he hurried away.

Saturday was overcast, and Robert had to concentrate just to see that his new friend was there at all in the gloom under the trees.

The boy had not asked, but Robert knew what it was he wanted and Robert surprised himself at how eager he was to do the boy's bidding. Robert had always been a leader rather than a follower, but he now felt different somehow.

Robert had seen a large plank of wood standing near the greenhouse that would be perfect for the job. The boy nodded and his smile lit up the darkness like a lamp.

Later that evening, Dr Trewain dropped by to apologise for having left in such a hurry the night before.

'How is the patient?' said Mrs Sackville.

'Not so good, I am sorry to say,.' he answered with a sigh. 'Mrs Hunter is a very sick woman.' Dr Trewain was disconcerted to see Robert grinning, and he frowned. Mrs Sackville followed his gaze.

'Robert?' she said crossly. 'I cannot see what there is to be so happy about.'

'Oh,.' said Robert. 'I'm sorry. I was thinking about something else.' Mrs Sackville stared at her son. There seemed something strange in his manner. Reverend Sackville interrupted the silence to ask Dr Trewain what he had been going to tell them about the house. Dr Trewain took on the look of a man who, having said a little too much, knew he would not be allowed to end it there.

'Fear not,.' he said. 'It is ancient history; in fact not even history - more hearsay and rumour and tall tale. I would not have mentioned it at all were it not for the fact that the villagers have long memories and it does have some bearing on the last days of old Reverend Benchley. But perhaps it may be a little disturbing for some ears.' He cast a meaningful glance at Robert, and Robert's mother nodded.

'Time you were off to bed, darling,.' she said.

'But, Mother,.' protested Robert.

'Come along now, my