ing a flask out of his pocket,
emptied it at a draught. "That's something like!" he said, smacking his
lips with an air of infinite relief. "So sorry, Miss, to have given you
all your trouble for nothing; it's my ignorance that's to blame, not me.
I couldn't know I was unworthy of genuine milk till I tried--could I?
And do you know," he proceeded, with his eyes directed slyly on the way
back to the station, "I begin to think I'm not worthy of the fresh air,
either. A kind of longing seems to come over me for the London stink.
I'm home-sick already for the soot of my happy childhood and my own dear
native mud. The air here is too thin for me, and the sky's too clean;
and--oh, Lord!--when you're wed to the roar of the traffic--the 'busses
and the cabs and what not--the silence in these parts is downright
awful. I'll wish you good evening, miss; and get back to London."

Isabel turned to Moody with disappointment plainly expressed in her face
and manner.

"Is that all he has to say?" she asked. "You told me he could help us.
You led me to suppose he could find the guilty person."

Sharon heard her. "I could name the guilty person," he answered, "as
easily, miss, as I could name you."

"Why don't you do it then?" Isabel inquired, not very patiently

"Because the time's not ripe for it yet, miss--that's one reason.
Because, if I mentioned the thief's name, as things are now, you, Miss
Isabel, would think me mad; and you would tell Mr. Moody I had cheated
him out of his money--that's another reason. The matter's in train, if
you will only wait a little longer."

"So you say," Isabel rejoined. "If you really could name the thief, I
believe you would do it now."

She turned away with a frown on her pretty face. Old Sharon followed
her. Even his coarse sensibilities appeared to feel the irresistible
ascendancy of beauty and youth.

"I say!" he began, "we must part friends, you know--or I shall break my
heart over it. They have got milk at the farmhouse. Do you think they
have got pen, ink, and paper too?"

Isabel answered, without turning to look at him, "Of course they have!"

"And a bit of sealing-wax?"

"I daresay!"

Old Sharon laid his dirty claws on her shoulder and forced her to face
him as the best means of shaking them off.

"Come along!" he said. "I am going to pacify you with some information
in writing."

"Why should you write it?" Isabel asked suspiciously.

"Because I mean to make my own condition