away as if from some too admiring gaze, was possibly picking flowers out of the hedge-bank.  These Sunday afternoon strolls were the plague of Bell’s life that whole summer.  Then it took as much of artifice as was in the simple woman’s nature to keep Daniel from insisting on having Sylvia’s company every time he went down to Monkshaven.  And here, again, came a perplexity, the acknowledgement of which in distinct thought would have been an act of disloyalty, according to Bell’s conscience.  If Sylvia went with her father, he never drank to excess; and that was a good gain to health at any rate (drinking was hardly a sin against morals in those days, and in that place); so, occasionally, she was allowed to accompany him to Monkshaven as a check upon his folly; for he was too fond and proud of his daughter to disgrace her by any open excess.  But one Sunday afternoon early in November, Philip came up before the time at which he usually paid his visits.  He looked grave and pale; and his aunt began,—­

’Why, lad! what’s been ado?  Thou’rt looking as peaked and pined as a Methody preacher after a love-feast, when he’s talked hisself to Death’s door.  Thee dost na’ get good milk enow, that’s what it is,—­such stuff as Monkshaven folks put up wi’!’

’No, aunt; I’m quite well.  Only I’m a bit put out—­vexed like at what I’ve heerd about Sylvie.’

His aunt’s face changed immediately.

‘And whatten folk say of her, next thing?’

‘Oh,’ said Philip, struck by the difference of look and manner in his aunt, and subdued by seeing how instantly she took alarm.  ’It were only my uncle;—­he should na’ take a girl like her to a public.  She were wi’ him at t’ “Admiral’s Head” upo’ All Souls’ Day—­that were all.  There were many a one there beside,—­it were statute fair; but such a one as our Sylvie ought not to be cheapened wi’ t’ rest.’

‘And he took her there, did he?’ said Bell, in severe meditation.  ’I had never no opinion o’ th’ wenches as ’ll set theirselves to be hired for servants i’ th’ fair; they’re a bad lot, as cannot find places for theirselves—­’bout going and stannin’ to be stared at by folk, and grinnin’ wi’ th’ plough-lads when no one’s looking; it’s a bad look-out for t’ missus as takes one o’ these wenches for a servant; and dost ta mean to say as my Sylvie went and demeaned hersel’ to dance and marlock wi’ a’ th’ fair-folk at th’ “Admiral’s Head?"’

‘No, no, she did na’ dance; she barely set foot i’ th’ room; but it were her own pride as saved her; uncle would niver ha’ kept her from it, for he had fallen in wi’ Hayley o’ Seaburn and one or two others, and they were having a glass i’ t’ bar, and Mrs. Lawson, t’ landlady, knew how there was them who would come and dance among parish ‘prentices if need were, just to get a word or a look wi’ Sylvie!  So she tempts her in, saying that the room were all smartened and fine wi’ flags; and there was them in the room as told me that they never were so startled