led against the more unbroken white of the hill-side.
Lights twinkled here and there in the town, and were slung from
stern and bow of the ships in the harbour. The air was very still,
settling in for a frost; so still that all distant sounds seemed
near: the rumble of a returning cart in the High Street, the voices
on board ship, the closing of shutters and barring of doors in the
new town to which they were bound. But the sharp air was filled, as
it were, with saline particles in a freezing state; little pungent
crystals of sea salt burning lips and cheeks with their cold
keenness. It would not do to linger here in the very centre of the
valley up which passed the current of atmosphere coming straight
with the rushing tide from the icy northern seas. Besides, there was
the unusual honour of a supper with Jeremiah Foster awaiting them.
He had asked each of them separately to a meal before now; but they
had never gone together, and they felt that there was something
serious in the conjuncture.

They began to climb the steep heights leading to the freshly-built
rows of the new town of Monkshaven, feeling as if they were rising
into aristocratic regions where no shop profaned the streets.
Jeremiah Foster's house was one of six, undistinguished in size, or
shape, or colour; but noticed in the daytime by all passers-by for
its spotless cleanliness of lintel and doorstep, window and window
frame. The very bricks seemed as though they came in for the daily
scrubbing which brightened handle, knocker, all down to the very
scraper.

The two young men felt as shy of the interview with their master
under such unusual relations of guest and host, as a girl does of
her first party. Each rather drew back from the decided step of
knocking at the door; but with a rebuffing shake at his own folly,
Philip was the one to give a loud single rap. As if they had been
waited for, the door flew open, and a middle-aged servant stood
behind, as spotless and neat as the house itself; and smiled a
welcome to the familiar faces.

'Let me dust yo' a bit, William,' said she, suiting the action to
the word. 'You've been leanin' again some whitewash, a'll be bound.
Ay, Philip,' continued she, turning him round with motherly freedom,
'yo'll do if yo'll but gi' your shoon a polishin' wipe on yon other
mat. This'n for takin' t' roughest mud off. Measter allays polishes
on that.'

In the square parlour the same precise order was observed. Every
arti