et
eyes on 'ee!"

She sauntered away across the yard, but turned her head as she reached
the far end, and glanced back at Ishmael. He hesitated, pride fighting
with longing; then he also began to saunter--aimlessly at first; then,
giving up the struggle, he frankly followed her. Lenine chuckled softly.

"Talk o' the way o' a man wi' a maid--'tes nawthen to the way o' a maid
wi' a man, is it, Passon? She'll be one for the chaps, she will!"

Boase assented, laughing, then his eyes saddened, as he watched the two
little figures, side by side now, disappear round the corner of the
pig-styes. It suddenly struck him as rather horrible that anything so
innocent as Ishmael still was should develop into a man, even a healthy,
clean-living man; such a pity that the instinct that was the cause of
charming play with Phoebe should ever become desire. It was a feeling
that a mother might have had, and Boase smiled at it even as he gave a
sigh to the pity of inexorable things.

"So you're bringing Phoebe over to Cry the Neck, Sam?" he asked
casually. Sam Lenine nodded.

"Gwain be there, Passon?"

"Maybe. Fact is, Sam, I thought it would be a good opportunity to sit
that boy at the head of the table--"

Lenine nodded again, but waited in silence.

"You're an influential man," continued Boase, "and the way you speak of
him and treat things generally would rather give the lead to the people
round here."

For the third time the miller nodded, then started a little as he caught
sight of Ishmael and Phoebe reappearing from the pig-stye, and his
eyes lightened suddenly. He dropped his thickly-veined lids to hide
them.

"Happen I can do a little, Passon," he said; "I'll think on et."

"Do," said Boase heartily. Then he too started slightly and looked at
the miller a little suspiciously, and, though he said nothing, his face
darkened. Already the cords of intrigue were beginning to close round
Ishmael Ruan, and the Parson longed to break them with one clean stroke,
even while he realised the futility of the wish. He called rather
sharply to the children.

"Ishmael! You must come back with me now; there are things I want you to
do at the vicarage. Come."

Ishmael recognised the tone of authority. He was an obedient child
simply because he was so proud he would not fight a losing battle.
Sooner than be conquered he obeyed as though he were doing the thing
commanded merely because he himself wished to, and for the same reason
if