t
an' lean together i' these days, or go wi'out mate."

Sammy remembered these sage remarks rather sorely, as he sat awaiting
the master of the household. His independence had been very dear to
him, and the idea that he must relinquish it was a grievous thorn in
the flesh. He glanced round at the pictures and statuettes and shook his
head dubiously.

"A mon wi' so many crinkum-crankums as he seems to ha' getten 'll be
apt to be reyther set i' polytics. An' I'll warrant this is na th' best
parlor neyther. Aw th' wall covered wi' books too, an' a ornymental
step-lather to climb up to th' high shelves. Well, Sammy, owd lad,
tha's not seen aw th' world yet, tha finds out. Theer's a bit o' summat
outside Riggan. After aw, it does a mon no hurt to travel. I should na
wonder if I mought see things as I nivver heerd on if I getten as fur
as th' Contynent. Theer's France now--foak say as they dunnot speak
Lancashire i' France, an' conna so much as understand it. Well, theer's
ignorance aw o'er th' world."

The door opened at this juncture, and Mr. Haviland entered--fresh,
florid and cordial. His temperament being an easy one, he rather
dreaded collision with anybody, and would especially have disliked an
uncomfortable interview with this old fellow. He would like to be able
to preserve his affability of demeanor for his own sake as well as for
Miss Barholm's.

"Ah!" he said, "Craddock, is it? Glad to see you, Craddock."

Sammy rose from his seat

"Aye," he answered. "Sam'll Craddock fro' Riggan. Same to you, Mester."

Mr. Haviland waved his hand good-naturedly.

"Take your seat again," he said. "Don't stand. You are the older man of
the two, you know, and I dare say you are tired with your walk. You came
about the lodge-keeper's place?"

"That little lass o' th' owd Parson's----" began Sammy.

"Miss Anice Barholm," interposed Mr. Havi-land. "Yes, she told me she
would send you. I never had the pleasure of seeing her until she drove
here yesterday to ask for the place for you. She was afraid to lose time
in waiting for her father's return."

"Yo' nivver saw her afore?"

"No."

"Well," rubbing his hands excitedly over the knob of his stick, "hoo's a
rarer un than I thowt fur, even. Hoo'll stond at nowt, wont that little
wench," and he gave vent to his feelings in a delighted chuckle. "I'd
loike to ax yo'," he added, "wheer's th' other lass, as ud ha' had the
pluck to do as mich?"

"I don't think there is another