afraid of anything but losing Saracen, who
has pined like the deuce at his long confinement in the court. Hear him
now; just hear him."

And I could hear the low and unhappy moaning of the hound distinctly. It
was not a pleasant sound, and I was almost tempted to bid William
unloose the dog, but thought better of it.

"By the way," said he, "speaking of Mother Jane, I have a message to her
from the girls. You will excuse me if I speak to the poor woman."

Alarmed by his politeness more than I ever have been by his roughness
and inconsiderate sarcasms, I surveyed him inquiringly as he left the
gate, and did not know whether to stand my ground or retreat to the
house. I decided to stand my ground; a message to this woman seeming to
me a matter of some interest.

I was glad I did, for after some five minutes' absence, during which he
had followed her into the house, I saw him come back again in a state of
sullen displeasure, which, however, partially disappeared when he saw me
still standing by the gate.

"Ah, Miss Butterworth, you can do me a favor. The old creature is in one
of her stubborn fits to-day, and won't give me a hearing. She may not be
so deaf to you; she isn't apt to be to women. Will you cross the road
and speak to her? I will go with you. You needn't be afraid."

The way he said this, the confidence he expected to inspire, had almost
a ghastly effect upon me. Did he know or suspect that the only thing I
feared in this lane was he? Evidently not, for he met my eye quite
confidently.

It would not do to shake his faith at such a moment as this, so calling
upon Providence to see me safely through this adventure, I stepped into
the highway and went with him into Mother Jane's cottage.

Had I been favored with any other companion than himself, I should have
been glad of this opportunity. As it was, I found myself ignoring any
possible danger I might be running, in my interest in the remarkable
interior to which I was thus introduced.

Having been told that Mother Jane was poor, I had expected to confront
squalor and possibly filth, but I never have entered a cleaner place or
one in which order made the poorest belongings look more decent. The
four walls were unfinished, and so were the rafters which formed the
ceiling, but the floor, neatly laid in brick, was spotless, and the
fireplace, also of brick, was as deftly swept as one could expect from
the little scrub I saw hanging by its side. Crouched wi