ng from the
mantel-shelf to keep away the draught which rushed down the wide open
chimney, on each side of which was a straight-backed wooden settle. The
dark smoke-dried rafters were evidently used as larder and storehouse,
for all manner of things hung from them, such as a side of bacon, tallow
dips, and a pair of clogs. Two or three pieces of oak furniture,
brought to a high state of polish by Mrs Darvell's industrious hands,
gave an air of comfort to the room, though the floor was red-brick and
bare of carpet; a tall brazen-faced clock ticked deliberately behind the
door. On one of the settles in the chimney-corner sat Mrs Darvell's
"man," as she called her husband, smoking a short pipe, with his feet
stretched out on the hearth; his great boots, caked with mud, stood
beside him. He was a big broad-shouldered fellow, about forty, with a
fair smooth face, which generally looked good-tempered enough, and
somewhat foolish, but which just now had a sullen expression on it,
which Mrs Darvell's quick eye noted immediately. He looked up and
nodded when his wife came in, without taking the pipe out of his mouth.

"Well, I'm proper tired," she said, bumping her basket down with a sigh
of relief. "That Whiteleaf Hill do spend one so after a day's
marketing." Then glancing at the muddy boots on the hearth: "Bin
ploughin'?"

Mr Darvell nodded again, and looked inquiringly at his wife's basket.
Answering this silent question she said:

"I sold 'em fairly well. Mrs Reuben got more; but hers was fatter."

Mr Darvell smoked on in silence, and his wife busied herself in
preparing supper, consisting of cold bacon, bread, and tea without milk;
it was not until they had both been seated at the meal for a little
while that she set down her cup suddenly and exclaimed:

"Why, whatever's got our Frank? Isn't he home yet?"

Mr Darvell's mouth was still occupied, not with his pipe, but with a
thick hunk of bread, on which was laid an almost equally thick piece of
fat bacon. Gazing at his wife across this barrier he nodded again, and
presently murmured somewhat indistinctly:

"Ah, he came home with me."

"Then," repeated Mrs Darvell, fixing her eyes sharply on him, "where
_is_ the lad?"

Mr Darvell avoided his wife's gaze.

"How should I know where he is?" he answered sullenly. "I haven't seen
him, not for these two hours. He's foolin' round somewheres with the
other lads."

"That's not like our Frank," said Mrs Darv