‘So th’ oud gentleman’s away on his travels, is he?’ said he.  ’Little ’uns telled me so.  Eh! but they’re sharp ’uns, they are; I a’most think they beat my own wenches for sharpness, though mappen it’s wrong to say so, and one on ’em in her grave.  There’s summut in th’ weather, I reckon, as sets folk a-wandering.  My measter, him at th’ shop yonder, is spinning about th’ world somewhere.’

‘Is that the reason you’re so soon at home to-night?’ asked Margaret innocently.

‘Thou know’st nought about it, that’s all,’ said he, contemptuously.  ‘I’m not one wi’ two faces—­one for my measter, and t’other for his back.  I counted a’ th’ clocks in the town striking afore I’d leave my work.  No! yon Thornton’s good enough for to fight wi’, but too good for to be cheated.  It were you as getten me the place, and I thank yo’ for it.  Thornton’s is not a bad mill, as times go.  Stand down, lad, and say yo’r pretty hymn to Miss Margaret.  That’s right; steady on thy legs, and right arm out as straight as a shewer.  One to stop, two to stay, three mak’ ready, and four away!’

The little fellow repeated a Methodist hymn, far above his comprehension in point of language, but of which the swinging rhythm had caught his ear, and which he repeated with all the developed cadence of a member of parliament.  When Margaret had duly applauded, Nicholas called for another, and yet another, much to her surprise, as she found him thus oddly and unconsciously led to take an interest in the sacred things which he had formerly scouted.

It was past the usual tea-time when she reached home; but she had the comfort of feeling that no one had been kept waiting for her; and of thinking her own thoughts while she rested, instead of anxiously watching another person to learn whether to be grave or gay.  After tea she resolved to examine a large packet of letters, and pick out those that were to be destroyed.

Among them she came to four or five of Mr. Henry Lennox’s, relating to Frederick’s affairs; and she carefully read them over again, with the sole intention, when she began, to ascertain exactly on how fine a chance the justification of her brother hung.  But when she had finished the last, and weighed the pros and cons, the little personal revelation of character contained in them forced itself on her notice.  It was evident enough, from the stiffness of the wording, that Mr. Lennox had never forgotten his relation to her in any interest he might feel in the subject of the correspondence.  They were clever letters; Margaret saw that in a twinkling; but she missed out of them all hearty and genial atmosphere.  They were to be preserved, however, as valuable; so she laid them carefully on one side.  When this little piece of business was ended, she fell into a reverie; and the thought of her absent father ran strangely in Margaret’s head this night.  She almost blamed herself for having felt her solitude (and consequently his absence) as a relief; but these