An armful of gads thrown on the still hot embers caused them to blaze

up cheerfully and bring her diminished head-gear into sudden prominence

as a shadow. At this a step approached the door.

"Are folk astir here yet?" inquired a voice she knew well.

"Yes, Mr. Winterborne," said Marty, throwing on a tilt bonnet, which

completely hid the recent ravages of the scissors. "Come in!"

The door was flung back, and there stepped in upon the mat a man not

particularly young for a lover, nor particularly mature for a person of

affairs. There was reserve in his glance, and restraint upon his

mouth. He carried a horn lantern which hung upon a swivel, and

Advertisement..

wheeling as it dangled marked grotesque shapes upon the shadier part of

the walls.

He said that he had looked in on his way down, to tell her that they

did not expect her father to make up his contract if he was not well.

Mr. Melbury would give him another week, and they would go their

journey with a short load that day.

"They are done," said Marty, "and lying in the cart-house."

"Done!" he repeated. "Your father has not been too ill to work after

all, then?"

She made some evasive reply. "I'll show you where they be, if you are

going down," she added.

They went out and walked together, the pattern of the air-holes in the

top of the lantern being thrown upon the mist overhead, where they

appeared of giant size, as if reaching the tent-shaped sky. They had no

remarks to make to each other, and they uttered none. Hardly anything

could be more isolated or more self-contained than the lives of these

two walking here in the lonely antelucan hour, when gray shades,

material and mental, are so very gray. And yet, looked at in a certain

way, their lonely courses formed no detached design at all, but were

part of the pattern in the great web of human doings then weaving in

both hemispheres, from the White Sea to Cape Horn.

The shed was reached, and she pointed out the spars. Winterborne

regarded them silently, then looked at her.

"Now, Marty, I believe--" he said, and shook his head.

"What?"

"That you've done the work yourself."

"Don't you tell anybody, will you, Mr. Winterborne?" she pleaded, by

way of answer. "Because I am afraid Mr. Melbury may refuse my work if

he knows it is mine."

"But how could you learn to do it? 'Tis a trade."




Most Popular