as planning what he should do with his life.

Scarcely without knowing why, he turned his footsteps towards the farm.

"I wonder if the woman lives there still?" he said to himself. "Let me
see, what was she called? Yes, Mrs. Pethick, I remember now, and she
talked religion to me. She believed in it, too!"

He cast his mind back over the years again, and remembered what the
woman had said to him.

"I wonder, I wonder if there's anything in it, after all?" he said with
a sigh.

Everything was quiet at the farmyard when he came to it. A sheep-dog
lifted his head sleepily and prepared to growl, but, seeing a
well-dressed man, decided that all was well. The chickens crouched
beneath the shade of a tree; evidently the day was too warm for them to
care to seek for food. Nothing was to be heard save the hum of insects
and the occasional chirp of a bird. It was far warmer there in the
farmyard than up among the moors where he had been walking.

Leicester walked up to the kitchen door and knocked.

"Come in," said a voice which, in spite of the years which had elapsed,
Leicester remembered.

He opened the door and walked in. He recognised the kitchen at once--the
cool slate floor, the huge chimney-place at the end, and the long deal
table. Then a huge fire leaped up the chimney. Now there were only a few
red embers, on which a kettle sang merrily.

Mrs. Pethick appeared as he entered. She was but little altered; the six
years had sat lightly upon her, and she looked the same healthy, buxom
country-woman that she had looked then. And yet Leicester thought he saw
a sadder look in her eyes, and he wondered why it was.

"I wondered if you would sell me a glass of milk, ma'am," he said by way
of introducing himself.

"Glass ov milk," she replied. "You c'n 'ave so much milk as you mind to,
but I shaan't zell a drap a milk. 'Twud'dn be vitty."

"You mean that you won't take any money?" said Leicester.

"To be sure I wa'ant. I shud be shaamed to look 'ee in the faace, ef I
wos to taake yer money fer a drop o' milk."

Leicester laughed at the woman's vehemence.

"Have 'ee come from far then, sur; you do look 'ot and tired?" she
continued.

"Yes, I have walked a good many miles--from Vale Linden. Have you ever
heard of it?"

"Iss, I've 'eerd ov it, but I've never been there. Why, that must be
more'n twenty mile."

"Very likely. I've walked from there."

"And how be 'ee goin' back?"

"I'm going to walk."

"Good