straight, upright figure of her mother, fronting
the setting sun, but searching through its blinding rays for a sight
of her child, rose up like a sudden-seen picture, the remembrance of
which smote Sylvia to the heart with a sense of a lost blessing, not
duly valued while possessed.

'Well, feyther, and how's a' wi' you?' asked Sylvia, going to the
side of his chair, and laying her hand on his shoulder.

'Eh! harkee till this lass o' mine. She thinks as because she's gone
galraverging, I maun ha' missed her and be ailing. Why, lass, Donkin
and me has had t' most sensible talk a've had this many a day. A've
gi'en him a vast o' knowledge, and he's done me a power o' good.
Please God, to-morrow a'll tak' a start at walking, if t' weather
holds up.'

'Ay!' said Donkin, with a touch of sarcasm in his voice; 'feyther
and me has settled many puzzles; it's been a loss to Government as
they hannot been here for profiting by our wisdom. We've done away
wi' taxes and press-gangs, and many a plague, and beaten t'
French--i' our own minds, that's to say.'

'It's a wonder t' me as those Lunnon folks can't see things clear,'
said Daniel, all in good faith.

Sylvia did not quite understand the state of things as regarded
politics and taxes--and politics and taxes were all one in her mind,
it must be confessed--but she saw that her innocent little scheme of
giving her father the change of society afforded by Donkin's coming
had answered; and in the gladness of her heart she went out and ran
round the corner of the house to find Kester, and obtain from him
that sympathy in her success which she dared not ask from her
mother.

'Kester, Kester, lad!' said she, in a loud whisper; but Kester was
suppering the horses, and in the clamp of their feet on the round
stable pavement, he did not hear her at first. She went a little
farther into the stable. 'Kester! he's a vast better, he'll go out
to-morrow; it's all Donkin's doing. I'm beholden to thee for
fetching him, and I'll try and spare thee waistcoat fronts out o' t'
stuff for my new red cloak. Thou'll like that, Kester, won't ta?'

Kester took the notion in slowly, and weighed it.

'Na, lass,' said he, deliberately, after a pause. 'A could na' bear
to see thee wi' thy cloak scrimpit. A like t' see a wench look bonny
and smart, an' a tak' a kind o' pride in thee, an should be a'most
as much hurt i' my mind to see thee i' a pinched cloak as if old
Moll's tail here were docked too