e terrier sniffing on all sides and pulling the cord by
which she held him. When he perceived the presence of the other dog he
began to advance by leaps, uttering little yelps between each like a
child's jumping toy. Lion, with the superiority of a larger dog, raised
himself without hurry and advanced to meet the terrier, who excitedly
whined and sniffed about him.

"Good morning," said Anne, "you're out early."

"Yes," replied Mary, standing quite still in the position in which she
had halted. "I came over the fields. The grass is very wet though.
There's a mist, surely."

"Yes, a thick one," said Anne, "but the sun's coming through. Listen to
the birds. Did you ever hear anything like them?"

"I was out collecting the eggs at five o'clock this morning," returned
Mary, "and I think I never heard them so busy. The earth was all a-hum
with them. They seemed as though they _must_ be listened to, whatever
happened."

Both women stood listening.

"I came this way because I was going to leave my shilling for Lord
Axton's wedding present," said Mary, after a moment's silence.

"Did they come and ask _you_ for one?" said Anne. "I think they ought to
be ashamed of themselves."

"There's been some grumbling about it," said Mary. "I think myself the
agent should have left it to those who wanted. I suppose we could have
said No, but nobody likes to. It isn't as if people like them want any
wedding presents we can give them, and a shilling means a lot to some
people."

"It's the agent that wants to make a show," said Anne. "I think
sometimes that if those rich people knew how their wedding presents were
procured," she went on in the stilted manner habitual to her when
wishing to express a formal thought, "they would find little pleasure in
them."

"Mr Burton's given L10," said Mary. "They'll have a good sum." She
paused, distrustful.

Mary, who was known to all the country side, and who could do nothing
secretly, seldom spoke of the affairs of her neighbours. Whether she was
by nature a little taciturn, or whether her blindness, before which so
much passed unobserved, which cut her off from the possibility of
forming a judgment, had increased her natural modesty and diffidence,
she drew back into silence where others were discussed. But the actual
difficulties of living, which she daily and silently surmounted, brought
her so closely into touch with reality that she invariably saw, not the
fault or its circumstances,