“Prudence,” said I, “are you still at odds with George?” Prudence nodded.

“But,” said I, “he is such a splendid fellow!  His outburst the other day was quite natural, under the circumstances; surely you can forgive him, Prudence.”

“There be more nor that betwixt us, Mr. Peter,” sighed Prue, “‘Tis his drinkin’; six months ago he promised me never to touch another drop—­an’ he broke his word wi’ me.”

“But surely good ale, in moderation, will harm no man—­nay, on the contrary—­”

“But Jarge bean’t like other men, Mr. Peter!”

“No; he is much bigger, and stronger!” said I, “and I never saw a handsomer fellow.”

“Yes,” nodded the girl, “so strong as a giant, an’ so weak as a little child!”

“Indeed, Prudence,” said I, leaning nearer to her in my earnestness, “I think you are a little unjust to him.  So far as I know him, George is anything but weak-minded, or liable to be led into anything—­”

Hearing the Ancient chuckle gleefully, I glanced up to find him nodding and winking to Black George, who stood with folded arms and bent head, watching us from beneath his brows, and, as his eyes met mine, I thought they gleamed strangely in the firelight.

“Come, Prue,” said the Ancient, bustling forward, “table’s ready—­let’s sit down an’ eat—­faintin’ an’ famishin’ away, I be!”

So we presently sat down, all three of us, while Prudence carved and supplied our wants, as only Prudence could.

And after a while, our hunger being appeased, I took out my pipe, as did the Ancient and George theirs likewise, and together we filled them, slowly and carefully, as pipes should be filled, while Prudence folded a long, paper spill wherewith to light them, the which she proceeded to do, beginning at her grandfather’s churchwarden.  Now, while she was lighting mine, Black George suddenly rose, and, crossing to the forge, took thence a glowing coal with the tongs, thus doing the office for himself.  All at once I saw Prue’s hand was trembling, and the spill was dropped or ever my tobacco was well alight; then she turned swiftly away, and began replacing the plates and knives and forks in her basket.

“Be you’m a-goin’, Prue?” inquired the Ancient mumblingly, for his pipe was in full blast.

“Yes, gran’fer.”

“Then tell Simon as I’ll be along in ’arf an hour or so, will ’ee, lass?”

“Yes, gran’fer!” Always with her back to us.

“Then kiss ye old grandfeyther as loves ‘ee, an’ means for to see ‘ee well bestowed, an’ wed, one o’ these fine days!” Prudence stooped and pressed her fresh, red lips to his wrinkled old cheek and, catching up her basket, turned to the door, yet not so quickly but that I had caught the gleam of tears beneath her lashes.  Black George half rose from his seat, and stretched out his hand towards her burden, then sat down again as, with a hasty “Good night,” she vanished through the yawning doorway.  And, sitting there, we listened to her quick, light footstep cross the road to “The Bull.”