On the following Sunday he was tempted to wear it, and came down to breakfast much pleased with his appearance; but he was both astonished and alarmed at his aunt’s demeanour on beholding it.

“Lor’, John, wheerever did ye get yon ’andkerchief?  Dear, now, I could swear it’s the same as the one Mr. Lambert, of Saltfield, lost a five or six week ago.  Mrs. Lambert towd me ’bout it when we drove yon on neighbourin’ day.  Eh, hoo was in a way!  It’s been i’ th’ family for years an’ years; and hoo’d weshed it hersel’ an’ put it on th’ hedge to dry, an’ soombry coom an’ whipped it off.  Eh, I mind it well.  Hoo’d often showed it me.  Hoo thought a dale of it.”

John coloured up to his temples, a horrible suspicion darting through his mind; but he was nevertheless determined to carry off the situation in a high-handed manner.

“This can’t be hers, anyhow,” he returned angrily, “seein’ it’s mine.”

“Well, I could ha’ sworn it were the same,” retorted his aunt.  “Such an old-fashioned thing too.  It’s strange ye should get one of the same pattern.  How long have ye had it, John?  Happen them as stole it sold it again.”

John hated telling a lie, but conceived it advisable to tell one now.

“I’ve had this years an’ years.  My father gave it to me.”

“Well, if he gave it you so long ago as that it can’t be the same, I suppose, but it’s wonderful like it.  I wonder wheer he got it.  It’s a pity we can’t ask him, but he’s dead, as how ’tis, poor fellow!  Coom, pull up an’ tak’ your breakfast.”

John dutifully drew his chair to the table, but he felt as though every morsel choked him.  His own falsehood, to begin with, stuck in his throat, while the thought of Sally’s possible perfidy seemed to turn the wholesome farmhouse bread to sand in his mouth.  Was it possible, could it be possible, that this love-token of hers was stolen?  Had she dared to offer him that which it was a disgrace to possess If such were the case, of what avail was all his teaching?  To what purpose had he stooped to associate so constantly with one so much beneath him?

Meanwhile the eyes of all the Waring family were fixed upon his luckless neckerchief in a manner which made him feel more and more uncomfortable; and he was fairly beside himself when, after church, his aunt informed him that she was thinking of axin’ Margery Formby, who was Mrs. Lambert’s sister, to step round after dinner and have a look at it, “It’s so amazin’ like the one Mr. Lambert lost, I reckon it ‘ud be a kind o’ comfort if hoo could tell Mrs. Lambert hoo needn’t set sich store by it, as sich things is easy to be got.”

“Well, aunt, I’m not goin’ to stop in to have Margery Formby pokin’ and pryin’ at my things.  I never see such queer folk in my life.  ‘Tisn’t thought manners in other places to be passin’ remarks an’ askin’ questions about a fellow’s clothes.”

“Well I never!” ejaculated Mrs. Waring, scarlet with indignation.  “Upon my word, John, if it’s thought manners in town to be givin’ impudence to your own aunt ye’d best go back theer.  It’s not thought manners here, and what’s more, we won’t put up with it.  Your uncle’ll ha’ summat to say, I’ll warrant.”