of the company should be called upon for songs or stories, as was the wont at such convivial meetings.  Brunton had been helping his mother-in-law in urging people to eat, heaping their plates over their shoulders with unexpected good things, filling the glasses at the upper end of the table, and the mugs which supplied the deficiency of glasses at the lower.  And now, every one being satisfied, not to say stuffed to repletion, the two who had been attending to their wants stood still, hot and exhausted.

‘They’re a’most stawed,’ said Mrs. Corney, with a pleased smile.  ‘It’ll be manners t’ ask some one as knows how to sing.’

‘It may be manners for full men, but not for fasting,’ replied Brunton.  ‘Folks in t’ next room will be wanting their victual, and singing is allays out o’ tune to empty bellies.’

’But there’s them here as ’ll take it ill if they’re not asked.  I heerd Josiah Pratt a-clearing his throat not a minute ago, an’ he thinks as much on his singin’ as a cock does on his crowin’.’

’If one sings I’m afeard all on ’em will like to hear their own pipes.’

But their dilemma was solved by Bessy Corney, who opened the door to see if the hungry ones outside might not come in for their share of the entertainment; and in they rushed, bright and riotous, scarcely giving the first party time to rise from their seats ere they took their places.  One or two young men, released from all their previous shyness, helped Mrs. Corney and her daughters to carry off such dishes as were actually empty.  There was no time for changing or washing of plates; but then, as Mrs. Corney laughingly observed,—­

‘We’re a’ on us friends, and some on us mayhap sweethearts; so no need to be particular about plates.  Them as gets clean ones is lucky; and them as doesn’t, and cannot put up wi’ plates that has been used, mun go without.’

It seemed to be Philip’s luck this night to be pent up in places; for again the space between the benches and the wall was filled up by the in-rush before he had time to make his way out; and all he could do was to sit quiet where he was.  But between the busy heads and over-reaching arms he could see Charley and Sylvia, sitting close together, talking and listening more than eating.  She was in a new strange state of happiness not to be reasoned about, or accounted for, but in a state of more exquisite feeling than she had ever experienced before; when, suddenly lifting her eyes, she caught Philip’s face of extreme displeasure.

‘Oh,’ said she, ‘I must go.  There’s Philip looking at me so.’

‘Philip!’ said Kinraid, with a sudden frown upon his face.

‘My cousin,’ she replied, instinctively comprehending what had flashed into his mind, and anxious to disclaim the suspicion of having a lover.  ’Mother told him to see me home, and he’s noan one for staying up late.’

‘But you needn’t go.  I’ll see yo’ home.’