back and make it
up with the varmint. I reckon he means to give me a bad few minutes; but
'tis foolish to quarrel when folks can't do without one another, and so
I'll tell 'en."

Half an hour ago Mr. Benny had been a brave man, but as he neared his home
a sudden cowardice seized him. It was not that he shirked breaking the
news to his wife; nay, he fiercely desired to tell her, and get the worst
over. But in imagination he saw the children seated around the table, all
hungry as hunters for the meal which, under God's grace, he had never yet
failed to earn; and the thought that they might soon hunger and not be
fed, for a moment unmanned him. He hurried past the ope leading to his
door. The dinner-hour's quiet rested on the little town, and there was no
one in the street to observe him as he halted by the church-gate,
half-minded to return. The gate stood open, and as he glanced up at the
tower the clock there rang out its familiar chime. He passed up the path,
entered, and cast himself on his knees.

For half an hour he knelt, and, although he prayed but by fits and starts,
by degrees peace grew within him and possessed his soul. He waited until
the clock struck two--by which time the children would be back at school--
and walked resolutely homeward.

Mrs. Benny and Nuncey were alone in the kitchen, where the board had been
cleared of all but the tablecloth and his own knife and fork. They cried
out together upon his dilatoriness; but while his wife turned to fetch his
dinner from the oven, Nuncey took a step forward, scanning his face.

"Father?"

He put out a hand as he dropped into his seat, and stared along the empty
table.

"I am dismissed."

Mrs. Benny faced about, felt for a chair, and sat down trembling.
Nuncey took her father's hand.

"Tell us all about it," she commanded; and he told them.

His wife cast her apron over her head.

"But he'll take you back," she moaned. "If you go to 'en and ask 'en
properly, he'll surely take you back!"

"Don't be foolish, mother." Nuncey laid a hand on her father's shoulder,
and he looked up at her with brimming eyes. "'Tis Rosewarne that shall
send to us before we go to him!"

She patted the tired shoulders, now bent again over the table.

"But what a brave little father it is, after all!"

CHAPTER XVIII.

RIGHT OF FERRY.

"What's the matter with Benny?" asked Nicky Vro as he rowed Hester across
that evening. They were alone in the b