Charlotte, the youngest child, now came to the shop to say that supper was ready.

“C-come, boys, you’ve ha-had play enough,” said Mr. Hardwick.  “J-James, put Ch-Charlotte down.  M-M-Milton, it’s close on to S-Sabba’day.  Now w-wash yourselves.”

Just as the merriment was highest, Charlotte standing on James’s shoulders, and Milton chasing them, while the blacksmith was looking on,—­ his honest face glistening with soap and good-humor,—­Mildred Kinloch passed by on her way home from a walk by the river.  She looked towards the shop-door and bowed to Mr. Hardwick.

“G-good evenin’, M-Miss Mildred,” said he; “I’m g-glad to see you lookin’ so ch-cheerful.”

The tone was hearty, and with a dash of chivalrous sentiment rarely heard in a smithy.  His look of half-parental, half-admiring fondness was touching to see.

“Oh, Uncle Ralph,” she replied, “I am never melancholy when I see you.  You have all the cheerfulness of this spring day in your face.”

“Y-yes, I hev to stay here in the old shop; b-but I hear the b-birds in the mornin’, and all day I f-feel as ef I was out under the b-blue sky, an’ rejoicin’ with all livin’ creaturs in the sun and the s-sweet air of heaven.”

“I envy you your happy frame; everything has some form or hue of beauty for you.  I must have you read to me again.  I never take up Milton without thinking of you.”

“I c-couldn’t wish to be remembered in any p-pleasanter way.”

“Well, good evening.  I must hurry home, for it grows damp here by the mill-race.  Tell Lizzy and Anna to come and see me.  We are quite lonesome now.”

“P-p’raps Mark’ll come with ’em.”

“Mark?  Is he here?  When did he come?”

“H-he’ll be here t-to-night.”

“You surprise me!”

“’Tis rather s-sudden.  He wrote y-yes-terday ’t he’d g-got to come on urgent b-business.”

“Urgent business?” she repeated, thoughtfully.  “I wonder if Squire Clamp”——­

The blacksmith nodded, with a gesture towards his children, as though he would not have them hear.

“Yes,” he added, in a low tone, “I g-guess that is it.”

“I must go home,” said Mildred, hurriedly.

“Well, G-God bless you, my daughter!  D-don’t forgit your old sooty friend.  And ef ever y-you want the help of a s-stout hand, or of an old gray head, don’t fail to come to the ber-blacksmith’s shop.”

“Thank you, Uncle Ralph! thank you with all my heart!  Good-night!”

She walked lightly up the hill towards the principal street.  But she had not gone half a dozen yards before a hand grasped her arm.  She turned with a start.

“Mark Davenport!” she exclaimed, “Is it you?  How you frightened me!”

“Yes, Mildred, it is Mark, your old friend” (with a meaning emphasis).  “I couldn’t resist the temptation of giving you a little surprise.”

“But when did you come to town?”