At last the time had come for the fourth dance—­longed for by the strong, grave Adam, as if he had been a delicate-handed youth of eighteen; for we are all very much alike when we are in our first love; and Adam had hardly ever touched Hetty’s hand for more than a transient greeting—­had never danced with her but once before.  His eyes had followed her eagerly to-night in spite of himself, and had taken in deeper draughts of love.  He thought she behaved so prettily, so quietly; she did not seem to be flirting at all she smiled less than usual; there was almost a sweet sadness about her.  “God bless her!” he said inwardly; “I’d make her life a happy ’un, if a strong arm to work for her, and a heart to love her, could do it.”

And then there stole over him delicious thoughts of coming home from work, and drawing Hetty to his side, and feeling her cheek softly pressed against his, till he forgot where he was, and the music and the tread of feet might have been the falling of rain and the roaring of the wind, for what he knew.

But now the third dance was ended, and he might go up to her and claim her hand.  She was at the far end of the hall near the staircase, whispering with Molly, who had just given the sleeping Totty into her arms before running to fetch shawls and bonnets from the landing.  Mrs. Poyser had taken the two boys away into the dining-room to give them some cake before they went home in the cart with Grandfather and Molly was to follow as fast as possible.

“Let me hold her,” said Adam, as Molly turned upstairs; “the children are so heavy when they’re asleep.”

Hetty was glad of the relief, for to hold Totty in her arms, standing, was not at all a pleasant variety to her.  But this second transfer had the unfortunate effect of rousing Totty, who was not behind any child of her age in peevishness at an unseasonable awaking.  While Hetty was in the act of placing her in Adam’s arms, and had not yet withdrawn her own, Totty opened her eyes, and forthwith fought out with her left fist at Adam’s arm, and with her right caught at the string of brown beads round Hetty’s neck.  The locket leaped out from her frock, and the next moment the string was broken, and Hetty, helpless, saw beads and locket scattered wide on the floor.

“My locket, my locket!” she said, in a loud frightened whisper to Adam; “never mind the beads.”

Adam had already seen where the locket fell, for it had attracted his glance as it leaped out of her frock.  It had fallen on the raised wooden dais where the band sat, not on the stone floor; and as Adam picked it up, he saw the glass with the dark and light locks of hair under it.  It had fallen that side upwards, so the glass was not broken.  He turned it over on his hand, and saw the enamelled gold back.

“It isn’t hurt,” he said, as he held it towards Hetty, who was unable to take it because both her hands were occupied with Totty.