the wide chimney, and Bryda, seated
next her grandfather, felt a sense of happiness which had no cloud over
it. Betty and Jack were happy in the joy of looking at her, for it would
be difficult to say whether sister or lover was the most devoted
worshipper at her shrine.

The dish of snap-dragon, just placed on the table, was waiting to be set
alight, when a tap at the door made Flick start, rise warily on his
forelegs, and growl ominously.

Betty, who was nearest the door, opened it, and with difficulty kept
Flick back, who seemed determined to fly at the intruder.

'Down, Flick; be quiet,' the farmer thundered. 'Friend or foe, it ain't
the thing to fly at folk's throats.'

'Friend or foe?' said a voice Bryda knew too well, and Mr Bayfield, his
long riding-coat peppered with snow, which had touched his thick hair
with a fringe of white, came in. 'Mr Palmer, I hope you will tell your
hound I am a friend--eh, Miss Bryda?'

'Sit down, sir, sit ye down,' said the farmer. 'And, Doll there, take
the gentleman's coat and shake it.'

'I came to wish you a merry Christmas,' the Squire said, 'a merry
Christmas and a happy New Year. I have brought some trifles for the
ladies, if they will honour me by accepting them.'

All this time Jack Henderson had not spoken. His honest heart was filled
with jealous hatred of the visitor, who seemed to be unconscious of his
presence and took no notice of him.

Apparently Flick and Jack had some sympathy with each other, for the dog
retreated from the hearth and went to Jack's side, crouching at his
feet, with his nose on his paws and his watchful eyes fixed on the
guest, with no very amiable expression in them.

'Light the snap-dragon dish,' Mr Bayfield exclaimed, 'and let me have a
dip for a raisin. It is many a long year since I burnt my fingers in
such a quest. The old customs have a charm,' he added. 'Do you not say
so, Miss Bryda?'

Betty now carried away the two tallow candles, which stood in large
pewter candlesticks on the high mantel-shelf, and the spirit was set on
fire by Jack Henderson.

Then the hands were dipped in and the usual amount of exclamations
followed.

Jack, who had looked forward to this episode of the Christmas supper,
supplied Bryda with more plums than she could eat. The ladies of the
party, on these occasions, were supposed to give their spoil, snatched
from the burning mass amidst much screaming and laughing, to the most
favoured gentlemen of the