’We shall have tea up directly, and then you’ll take a cup with us, Mr. Higgins.  I am sure you are tired, if you’ve been out much this wet relaxing day.  Margaret, my dear, can’t you hasten tea?’

Margaret could only hasten tea by taking the preparation of it into her own hands, and so offending Dixon, who was emerging out of her sorrow for her late mistress into a very touchy, irritable state.  But Martha, like all who came in contact with Margaret—­even Dixon herself, in the long run—­felt it a pleasure and an honour to forward any of her wishes; and her readiness, and Margaret’s sweet forbearance, soon made Dixon ashamed of herself.

’Why master and you must always be asking the lower classes up-stairs, since we came to Milton, I cannot understand.  Folk at Helstone were never brought higher than the kitchen; and I’ve let one or two of them know before now that they might think it an honour to be even there.’

Higgins found it easier to unburden himself to one than to two.  After Margaret left the room, he went to the door and assured himself that it was shut.  Then he came and stood close to Mr. Hale.

‘Master,’ said he, ’yo’d not guess easy what I’ve been tramping after to-day.  Special if yo’ remember my manner o’ talk yesterday.  I’ve been a seeking work.  I have’ said he.  ’I said to mysel’, I’d keep a civil tongue in my head, let who would say what ’em would.  I’d set my teeth into my tongue sooner nor speak i’ haste.  For that man’s sake—­yo’ understand,’ jerking his thumb back in some unknown direction.

‘No, I don’t,’ said Mr. Hale, seeing he waited for some kind of assent, and completely bewildered as to who ‘that man’ could be.

‘That chap as lies theer,’ said he, with another jerk.  ’Him as went and drownded himself, poor chap!  I did na’ think he’d got it in him to lie still and let th’ water creep o’er him till he died.  Boucher, yo’ know.’

‘Yes, I know now,’ said Mr. Hale.  ’Go back to what you were saying:  you’d not speak in haste——­’

’For his sake.  Yet not for his sake; for where’er he is, and whate’er, he’ll ne’er know other clemming or cold again; but for the wife’s sake, and the bits o’ childer.’

‘God bless you!’ said Mr. Hale, starting up; then, calming down, he said breathlessly, ‘What do you mean?  Tell me out.’

‘I have telled yo’,’ said Higgins, a little surprised at Mr. Hale’s agitation.  ‘I would na ask for work for mysel’; but them’s left as a charge on me.  I reckon, I would ha guided Boucher to a better end; but I set him off o’ th’ road, and so I mun answer for him.’

Mr. Hale got hold of Higgins’s hand and shook it heartily, without speaking.  Higgins looked awkward and ashamed.

’Theer, theer, master!  Theer’s ne’er a man, to call a man, amongst us, but what would do th’ same; ay, and better too; for, belie’ me, I’se ne’er got a stroke o’ work, nor yet a sight of any.  For all I telled Hamper that, let alone his pledge—­which I would not sign—­no, I could na, not e’en for this—­he’d ne’er ha’ such a worker on his mill as I would be—­he’d ha’ none o’ me—­no more would none o’ th’ others.  I’m a poor black feckless sheep—­childer may clem for aught I can do, unless, parson, yo’d help me?’