essed face."

She lifted the hem of her apron to her face and broke into discordant
weeping.

"Don't cry," said Prudence, softly; "I'm sure he isn't worth it."

Mr. Catesby looked at her wanly. He was beyond further astonishment, and
when Mrs. Truefitt entered the room with a laudable attempt to twist her
features into an expression of surprise, he scarcely noticed her.

"It's my Joe," said Mrs. Porter, simply.

"Good gracious!" said Mrs. Truefitt. "Well, you've got him now; take
care he doesn't run away from you again."

"I'll look after that, ma'am," said Mrs. Porter, with a glare at the
startled Richard.

[Illustration: "I'll look after that, ma'am."]

"She's very forgiving," said Prudence. "She kissed him just now."

"Did she, though," said the admiring Mrs. Truefitt. "I wish I'd been
here."

"I can do it agin, ma'am," said the obliging Mrs. Porter.

"If you come near me again--" said the breathless Richard, stepping back
a pace.

"I shouldn't force his love," said Mrs. Truefitt; "it'll come back in
time, I dare say."

"I'm sure he's affectionate," said Prudence.

Mr. Catesby eyed his tormentors in silence; the faces of Prudence and her
mother betokened much innocent enjoyment, but the austerity of Mrs.
Porter's visage was unrelaxed.

"Better let bygones be bygones," said Mrs. Truefitt; "he'll be sorry
by-and-by for all the trouble he has caused."

"He'll be ashamed of himself--if you give him time," added Prudence.

Mr. Catesby had heard enough; he took up his hat and crossed to the door.

"Take care he doesn't run away from you again," repeated Mrs. Truefitt.

"I'll see to that, ma'am," said Mrs. Porter, taking him by the arm.
"Come along, Joe."

Mr. Catesby attempted to shake her off, but in vain, and he ground his
teeth as he realised the absurdity of his position. A man he could have
dealt with, but Mrs. Porter was invulnerable. Sooner than walk down the
road with her he preferred the sallies of the parlour. He walked back to
his old position by the fireplace, and stood gazing moodily at the floor.

Mrs. Truefitt tired of the sport at last. She wanted her supper, and
with a significant glance at her daughter she beckoned the redoubtable
and reluctant Mrs. Porter from the room. Catesby heard the kitchen-door
close behind them, but he made no move. Prudence stood gazing at him in
silence.

"If you want to go," she said, at last, "now is your chance."

Catesby followed her in