“Shall I tell you his greatest fault?” was the bitter reply.  “He is my friend; he is the only creature that has spoken kind words to me to-day.  Oh!  I saw how cross you looked at him.”

Susan’s eyes flashed, and the color rose in her cheek, and the water in her eyes.

“You are a fool, George,” said she; “you don’t know how to read a woman, nor her looks, nor her words either.”

And Susan was very angry and disdainful, and did not speak to George all dinner-time.

As for poor George, he followed her into the house with a heart both sick and heavy.

This Berkshire farmer had a proud and sensitive nature under a homely crust.

Old Merton’s words had been iron passing through his soul, and besides he felt as if everything was turning cold and slippery and gliding from his hand.  He shivered with vague fears, and wished the sun would set at one o’clock and the sorrowful day come to an end.

CHAPTER II.

THE meal passed almost in silence; Robinson was too hungry to say a word, and a weight hung upon George and Susan.

As they were about to rise, William observed two men in the farmyard who were strangers to him—­the men seemed to be inspecting the hogs.  It struck him as rather cool; but apparently the pig is an animal which to be prized needs but to be known, for all connoisseurs of him are also enthusiastic amateurs.

When I say the pig I mean the four-legged one.

William Fielding, partly from curiosity to hear these strangers’ remarks, partly hoping to find customers in them, strolled into the farmyard before his companions rose from the table.

The others, looking carelessly out of the window, saw William join the two men and enter into conversation with them; but their attention was almost immediately diverted from that group by the entrance of Meadows.  He came in radiant; his face was a remarkable contrast to the rest of the party.

Susan could not help noticing it.

“Why, Mr. Meadows,” cried she, “you look as bright as a May morning; it is quite refreshing to see you; we are all rather down here this morning.”

Meadows said nothing, and did not seem at his ease under this remark.

George rose from the table; so did Susan; Robinson merely pushed back his chair and gave a comfortable little sigh, but the next moment he cried “Hallo!”

They looked up, and there was William’s face close against the window.

William’s face was remarkably pale, and first he tried to attract George’s attention without speaking, but finding himself observed by the whole party, he spoke out.

“George, will you speak a word?” said he.

George rose and went out; but Susan’s curiosity was wakened, and she followed him, accompanied by Meadows.

“None but you, George,” said William, with a voice half stern, half quivering.