This night farmer Robson was fidgeting in and out of his house-door, climbing the little eminence in the field, and coming down disappointed in a state of fretful impatience.  His quiet, taciturn wife was a little put out by Sylvia’s non-appearance too; but she showed her anxiety by being shorter than usual in her replies to his perpetual wonders as to where the lass could have been tarrying, and by knitting away with extra diligence.

‘I’ve a vast o’ mind to go down to Monkshaven mysen, and see after t’ child.  It’s well on for seven.’

‘No, Dannel,’ said his wife; ’thou’d best not.  Thy leg has been paining thee this week past, and thou’rt not up to such a walk.  I’ll rouse Kester, and send him off, if thou think’st there’s need on it.’

‘A’ll noan ha’ Kester roused.  Who’s to go afield betimes after t’ sheep in t’ morn, if he’s ca’ed up to-neet?  He’d miss t’ lass, and find a public-house, a reckon,’ said Daniel, querulously.

‘I’m not afeard o’ Kester,’ replied Bell.  ’He’s a good one for knowing folk i’ th’ dark.  But if thou’d rather, I’ll put on my hood and cloak and just go to th’ end o’ th’ lane, if thou’lt have an eye to th’ milk, and see as it does na’ boil o’er, for she canna stomach it if it’s bishopped e’er so little.’

Before Mrs. Robson, however, had put away her knitting, voices were heard at a good distance down the lane, but coming nearer every moment, and once more Daniel climbed the little brow to look and to listen.

‘It’s a’ reet!’ said he, hobbling quickly down.  ’Niver fidget theesel’ wi’ gettin’ ready to go search for her.  I’ll tak’ thee a bet it’s Philip Hepburn’s voice, convoying her home, just as I said he would, an hour sin’.’

Bell did not answer, as she might have done, that this probability of Philip’s bringing Sylvia home had been her own suggestion, set aside by her husband as utterly unlikely.  Another minute and the countenances of both parents imperceptibly and unconsciously relaxed into pleasure as Sylvia came in.

She looked very rosy from the walk, and the October air, which began to be frosty in the evenings; there was a little cloud over her face at first, but it was quickly dispersed as she met the loving eyes of home.  Philip, who followed her, had an excited, but not altogether pleased look about him.  He received a hearty greeting from Daniel, and a quiet one from his aunt.

‘Tak’ off thy pan o’ milk, missus, and set on t’ kettle.  Milk may do for wenches, but Philip and me is for a drop o’ good Hollands and watter this cold night.  I’m a’most chilled to t’ marrow wi’ looking out for thee, lass, for t’ mother was in a peck o’ troubles about thy none coining home i’ t’ dayleet, and I’d to keep hearkening out on t’ browhead.’

This was entirely untrue, and Bell knew it to be so; but her husband did not.  He had persuaded himself now, as he had done often before, that what he had in reality done for his own pleasure or satisfaction, he had done in order to gratify some one else.