CHAPTER XV.
THE FIRST MAN The mystery of the apparently occult methods of communication among the natives of India, between whom, it is said, news flies by means too strange and subtle to be humanly explainable, is no more difficult a problem to solve than that of the lightning rapidity with which a knowledge of the transpiring of any new local event darts through the slowest, and, as far as outward signs go, the least communicative English village slumbering drowsily among its pastures and trees.
That which the Hall or Manor House believed last night, known only to the four walls of its drawing-room, is discussed over the cottage breakfast tables as though presented in detail through the columns of the Morning Post.

The vicarage, the smithy, the post office, the little provision shop, are instantaneously informed as by magic of such incidents of interest as occur, and are prepared to assist vicariously at any future developments.

Through what agency information is given no one can tell, and, indeed, the agency is of small moment.

Facts of interest are perhaps like flights of swallows and dart chattering from one red roof to another, proclaiming themselves aloud.

Nothing is so true as that in such villages they are the property and innocent playthings of man, woman, and child, providing conversation and drama otherwise likely to be lacked.
When Miss Vanderpoel walked through Stornham village street she became aware that she was an exciting object of interest.