Champion Harrison nodded.

She looked at Jim, and I never saw such eyes in a human head, so large, and black, and wonderful.  Boy as I was, I knew that, in spite of that bloated face, this woman had once been very beautiful.  She put out a hand, with all the fingers going as if she were playing on the harpsichord, and she touched Jim on the shoulder.

“I hope—­I hope you’re well,” she stammered.

“Very well, ma’am,” said Jim, staring from her to his uncle.

“And happy too?”

“Yes, ma’am, I thank you.”

“Nothing that you crave for?”

“Why, no, ma’am, I have all that I lack.”

“That will do, Jim,” said his uncle, in a stern voice.  “Blow up the forge again, for that shoe wants reheating.”

But it seemed as if the woman had something else that she would say, for she was angry that he should be sent away.  Her eyes gleamed, and her head tossed, while the smith with his two big hands outspread seemed to be soothing her as best he could.  For a long time they whispered until at last she appeared to be satisfied.

“To-morrow, then?” she cried loud out.

“To-morrow,” he answered.

“You keep your word and I’ll keep mine,” said she, and dropped the lash on the pony’s back.  The smith stood with the rasp in his hand, looking after her until she was just a little red spot on the white road.  Then he turned, and I never saw his face so grave.

“Jim,” said he, “that’s Miss Hinton, who has come to live at The Maples, out Anstey Cross way.  She’s taken a kind of a fancy to you, Jim, and maybe she can help you on a bit.  I promised her that you would go over and see her to-morrow.”

“I don’t want her help, uncle, and I don’t want to see her.”

“But I’ve promised, Jim, and you wouldn’t make me out a liar.  She does but want to talk with you, for it is a lonely life she leads.”

“What would she want to talk with such as me about?”

“Why, I cannot say that, but she seemed very set upon it, and women have their fancies.  There’s young Master Stone here who wouldn’t refuse to go and see a good lady, I’ll warrant, if he thought he might better his fortune by doing so.”

“Well, uncle, I’ll go if Roddy Stone will go with me,” said Jim.

“Of course he’ll go.  Won’t you, Master Rodney?”

So it ended in my saying “yes,” and back I went with all my news to my mother, who dearly loved a little bit of gossip.  She shook her head when she heard where I was going, but she did not say nay, and so it was settled.

It was a good four miles of a walk, but when we reached it you would not wish to see a more cosy little house:  all honeysuckle and creepers, with a wooden porch and lattice windows.  A common-looking woman opened the door for us.

“Miss Hinton cannot see you,” said she.

“But she asked us to come,” said Jim.