that, my nephew promised to come there to-morrow to see me, and if I had
stayed I must have treated en. Hey--what's that?'

It was a shout from within the walls of the building, and Loveday said--

'Your nephew is here, and has company.'

'My nephew _here_?' gasped the old man. 'Good folks, will you come up to
the door with me? I mean--hee--hee--just for company! Dear me, I
thought my house was as quiet as a church?'

They went back to the window, and the farmer looked in, his mouth falling
apart to a greater width at the corners than in the middle, and his
fingers assuming a state of radiation.

''Tis my best silver tankards they've got, that I've never used! O! 'tis
my strong beer! 'Tis eight candles guttering away, when I've used
nothing but twenties myself for the last half-year!'

'You didn't know he was here, then?' said Loveday.

'O no!' said the farmer, shaking his head half-way. 'Nothing's known to
poor I! There's my best rummers jingling as careless as if 'twas tin
cups; and my table scratched, and my chairs wrenched out of joint. See
how they tilt 'em on the two back legs--and that's ruin to a chair! Ah!
when I be gone he won't find another old man to make such work with, and
provide goods for his breaking, and house-room and drink for his tear-
brass set!'

'Comrades and fellow-soldiers,' said Festus to the hot farmers and yeomen
he entertained within, 'as we have vowed to brave danger and death
together, so we'll share the couch of peace. You shall sleep here to-
night, for it is getting late. My scram blue-vinnied gallicrow of an
uncle takes care that there shan't be much comfort in the house, but you
can curl up on the furniture if beds run short. As for my sleep, it
won't be much. I'm melancholy! A woman has, I may say, got my heart in
her pocket, and I have hers in mine. She's not much--to other folk, I
mean--but she is to me. The little thing came in my way, and conquered
me. I fancy that simple girl! I ought to have looked higher--I know it;
what of that? 'Tis a fate that may happen to the greatest men.'

'Whash her name?' said one of the warriors, whose head occasionally
drooped upon his epaulettes, and whose eyes fell together in the casual
manner characteristic of the tired soldier. (It was really Farmer Stubb,
of Duddle Hole.)

'Her name? Well, 'tis spelt, A, N--but, by gad, I won't give ye her name
here in company. She don't live a hundred miles off, however, and