m as sure as I'm born that Charley is not t' chap to lose his
forfeit; and yet yo' see he says nought more about it, and she's
left off being 'feared of him.'

There was something in Sylvia's look, ay, and in Charley Kinraid's,
too, that shot conviction into Philip's mind. He watched them
incessantly during the interval before supper; they were intimate,
and yet shy with each other, in a manner that enraged while it
bewildered Philip. What was Charley saying to her in that whispered
voice, as they passed each other? Why did they linger near each
other? Why did Sylvia look so dreamily happy, so startled at every
call of the game, as if recalled from some pleasant idea? Why did
Kinraid's eyes always seek her while hers were averted, or downcast,
and her cheeks all aflame? Philip's dark brow grew darker as he
gazed. He, too, started when Mrs. Corney, close at his elbow, bade
him go in to supper along with some of the elder ones, who were not
playing; for the parlour was not large enough to hold all at once,
even with the squeezing and cramming, and sitting together on
chairs, which was not at all out of etiquette at Monkshaven. Philip
was too reserved to express his disappointment and annoyance at
being thus arrested in his painful watch over Sylvia; but he had no
appetite for the good things set before him, and found it hard work
to smile a sickly smile when called upon by Josiah Pratt for
applause at some country joke. When supper was ended, there was some
little discussion between Mrs. Corney and her son-in-law as to
whether the different individuals of the company should be called
upon for songs or stories, as was the wont at such convivial
meetings. Brunton had been helping his mother-in-law in urging
people to eat, heaping their plates over their shoulders with
unexpected good things, filling the glasses at the upper end of the
table, and the mugs which supplied the deficiency of glasses at the
lower. And now, every one being satisfied, not to say stuffed to
repletion, the two who had been attending to their wants stood
still, hot and exhausted.

'They're a'most stawed,' said Mrs. Corney, with a pleased smile.
'It'll be manners t' ask some one as knows how to sing.'

'It may be manners for full men, but not for fasting,' replied
Brunton. 'Folks in t' next room will be wanting their victual, and
singing is allays out o' tune to empty bellies.'

'But there's them here as 'll take it ill if they're not asked. I
he