he flap of
her waterproof so that the rain shouldn't get in, and counts out two
dozen clean banknotes, and puts 'em into my hand. There was many more
where they come from, for I could see the book was full of 'em; and when
she saw my eyes on them, she takes out another, and gives it me, with,
`There's one for thee, and good luck to 'ee; take that, and buy a
fairing for thy sweetheart, Tom Janaway, and never say Sophy Flannery
forgot an old friend.'

"`Thank 'ee kindly, mum,' says I; `thank 'ee kindly, and may you never
miss it! I hope your rents do still come in reg'lar, mum.'

"She laughed out loud, and said there was no fear of that; and then she
called a lad, and he led off White-face and Strike-a-light and Jenny and
the Cutler, and they was all gone, and the horse-dealer and Sophia,
afore I had time to say good-night. She never come into these parts
again--at least, I never seed her; but I heard tell she lived a score of
years more after that, and died of a broken blood-vessel at Beriton
Races."

He moved a little further down the choir, and went on with his dusting;
but Westray followed, and started him again.

"What happened when you got back? You haven't told me what Farmer
Joliffe said, nor how you came to leave farming and turn clerk."

The old man wiped his forehead.

"I wasn't going to tell 'ee that," he said, "for it do fair make I sweat
still to think o' it; but you can have it if you like. Well, when they
was gone, I was nigh dazed with such a stroke o' luck, and said the
Lord's Prayer to see I wasn't dreaming. But 'twas no such thing, and so
I cut a slit in the lining of my waistcoat, and dropped the notes in,
all except the one she give me for myself, and that I put in my
fob-pocket. 'Twas getting dark, and I felt numb with cold and wet, what
with standing so long in the rain and not having bite nor sup all day.

"'Tis a bleak place, Beacon Hill, and 'twas so soft underfoot that day
the water'd got inside my boots, till they fair bubbled if I took a
step. The rain was falling steady, and sputtered in the naphtha-lamps
that they was beginning to light up outside the booths. There was one
powerful flare outside a long tent, and from inside there come a smell
of fried onions that made my belly cry `Please, master, please!'

"`Yes, my lad,' I said to un, `I'm darned if I don't humour 'ee; thou
shan't go back to Wydcombe empty.' So in I step, and found the tent
mighty warm and well lit, wit