tep and looked up at him. "I'm very well. I'm glad you
knew me. It's three years."

"And your hair is up."

"Miriam and I are twenty," she said gravely, and he laughed.

The horse shook himself and set the dog-cart swaying; the jingle of his
bit went adventurously across the moor; heather-stalks scratched each
other in the wind.

"You haven't lighted your lamps," Helen said. "Somebody might run into
you."

"They might." He jumped down and fumbled for his matches. "The comfort
is that we're not likely to do it to any one, at our pace. When I've
made my fortune I shall buy a horse from George Halkett, one that will
go fast and far."

"But I like this one," said Helen. "We used to watch for him when we had
measles. He's mixed up with everything. Don't have another one."

"The fortune's still to make," he said. He had lighted the nearer lamp
and Helen's slim figure had become a thing of shadows. He took the
basket from her and put it under the seat. She was staring over the
horse's back.

"There was a thing we used to do. We had bets about Dr. Mackenzie's
ties, what colour they were; but we never won or lost, because we never
saw them. His beard was so big. And once Miriam pretended there was a
huge spider on the ceiling, but he wouldn't look up, though she
screamed. He told her not to be a silly little girl. So we never saw
them."

"I'm not surprised," the young doctor said. "He didn't wear them. What
was the use? He was a practical man."

"Oh," Helen cried, "isn't that just like life! You bother and bother
about something that doesn't exist and make yourself miserable for
nothing. No, I won't do it."

"Do you?"

"It's a great fault of mine," she said.

He went round the back of the cart and lighted the other lamp. "Now I'm
going to drive you home. That basket's heavy."

"I have been shopping," she explained. "Tomorrow a visitor is coming."

"Your father?" he asked quickly.

"No; he hasn't been again. He's ill, Notya says, and it's too cold for
him here. Dr. Zebedee, aren't you glad to be back on the moor?"

"Well, I don't see much of it, you know. My work is chiefly in the
streets--but, yes, I think I'm glad."

"We've been watching for you, Miriam and I. She'll be angry that I've
seen you first. No; she's thinking too much about tomorrow. It's an
uncle who's coming, a kind of uncle--Notya's brother. We haven't seen
him before and Miriam's excited."

"And you're not."

"I don't like new things.