monotonous roll of the distant waves, as the tide bore them in, the multitudinous rush at last, and then the retreating rattle and trickle, as the baffled waters fell back over the shingle that skirted the sands, and divided them from the cliffs; her father’s measured tread, and slow, even movement; Lassie’s pattering—­all lulled Sylvia into a reverie, of which she could not have given herself any definite account.  But at length they arrived at Moss Brow, and with a sudden sigh she quitted the subjects of her dreamy meditations, and followed her father into the great house-place.  It had a more comfortable aspect by night than by day.  The fire was always kept up to a wasteful size, and the dancing blaze and the partial light of candles left much in shadow that was best ignored in such a disorderly family.  But there was always a warm welcome to friends, however roughly given; and after the words of this were spoken, the next rose up equally naturally in the mind of Mrs Corney.

‘And what will ye tak’?  Eh! but t’ measter ’ll be fine and vexed at your comin’ when he’s away.  He’s off to Horncastle t’ sell some colts, and he’ll not be back till to-morrow’s neet.  But here’s Charley Kinraid as we’ve getten to nurse up a bit, and’ t’ lads ’ll be back fra’ Monkshaven in a crack o’ no time.’

All this was addressed to Daniel, to whom she knew that none but masculine company would be acceptable.  Amongst uneducated people—­whose range of subjects and interest do not extend beyond their daily life—­it is natural that when the first blush and hurry of youth is over, there should be no great pleasure in the conversation of the other sex.  Men have plenty to say to men, which in their estimation (gained from tradition and experience) women cannot understand; and farmers of a much later date than the one of which I am writing, would have contemptuously considered it as a loss of time to talk to women; indeed, they were often more communicative to the sheep-dog that accompanied them through all the day’s work, and frequently became a sort of dumb confidant.  Farmer Robson’s Lassie now lay down at her master’s feet, placed her nose between her paws, and watched with attentive eyes the preparations going on for refreshments—­preparations which, to the disappointment of her canine heart, consisted entirely of tumblers and sugar.

‘Where’s t’ wench?’ said Robson, after he had shaken hands with Kinraid, and spoken a few words to him and to Mrs. Corney.  ’She’s getten’ a basket wi’ sausages in ’em, as my missus has made, and she’s a rare hand at sausages; there’s noane like her in a’ t’ three Ridings, I’ll be bound!’

For Daniel could praise his wife’s powers in her absence, though he did not often express himself in an appreciative manner when she was by to hear.  But Sylvia’s quick sense caught up the manner in which Mrs. Corney would apply the way in which her mother’s housewifery had been exalted, and stepping forwards out of the shadow, she said,—­