It was the tone of a man long accustomed to have his own way in life, and not overmuch troubled with delicacies of feeling.  His address could not be called disrespectful, but the smile which accompanied it expressed a sort of good-natured patronage, perhaps inevitable in such a man when speaking to his clerk’s daughter.  The presence of the clerk himself very little concerned him.  He kept his eyes steadily on the girl’s face, examining her with complete frankness.  His utterance was that of an educated man, but it had something of the Yorkshire accent, a broadness which would have distressed the ear in a drawing-room.

Emily replied that she had been in London; it did not seem necessary to enter into details.

’Pleasant afternoon, isn’t it?  Makes one want to get away to the moors.  I suppose you will be off somewhere soon with your family, Mr. Hood?’

He would not have employed the formal prefix to his clerk’s name but for Emily’s presence; the father knew that, and felt grateful.

‘Not this year, I think, sir,’ he replied, with perfect cheerfulness.

Of the three dogs that accompanied Dagworthy, one was a handsome collie.  This animal came snuffing at Emily’s hand, and involuntarily, glad perhaps to have a pretence for averting her face, she caressed the silky ears.

‘Fine head, isn’t it, Miss Hood?’ said Dagworthy at once, causing her to remove her hand quickly.  ’Ay, but I’ve a finer collie than that.  Just walk in with me, will you?’ he added, after a scarcely perceptible pause.  ’I always like to show off my dogs.  You’re in no hurry, I suppose?  Just come and have a look at the kennels.’

Emily was deeply annoyed, both because such a visit was in itself distasteful to her, and on account of the irritation which she knew the delay would cause her mother.  She did not for a moment expect her father to refuse; his position would not allow him to do so.  Mr. Hood, in fact, murmured thanks, after a mere half glance at his daughter, and the three walked together to Dagworthy’s house, the entrance to which was not fifty yards from where they were standing.

The dwelling was neither large nor handsome, but it stood in a fine garden and had an air of solid well-being.  As soon as they had passed the gates, they were met by a middle-aged woman carrying a child of two years old, an infant of wonderfully hearty appearance.  At the sight of its father it chuckled and crowed.  Dagworthy took it from the woman’s arms, and began a game which looked not a little dangerous; with surprising strength and skill, he tossed it up some feet into the air, caught it as it descended, tossed it up again.  The child shrieked with delight, for all that the swift descent positively stopped its breath, and made a hiatus in the screaming.

‘Theer, that’s abaht enough, Mr. Richard,’ said the woman, in broad dialect, when the child had gone up half a dozen times; she was nervous, and kept holding out her arms involuntarily.  ’Ah doan’t ovver much fancy that kind o’ laakin.  What’s more, he’s allus reight dahn fratchy after a turn o’ that.  See nah, he’ll nivver want you to stop.  Do a’ done nah, Mr. Richard.’