ive pore Blackbird a bit."

"Who says I didn't give en a bit?" retorted Joseph. "Ye be al'ays
jumpin' at notions, Mary. Blackbird had as good a feed o' carn afore
he did go as ever a horse had."

"Much good it'll do en when he's a-goin' to be killed," returned his
spouse inconsequently. "There, it's no use talkin'; I must make haste
wi' my breakfast and get back to my work. It's well for I as I be able
to work a bit yet, else I suppose ye'd be sendin' me to the knackers."

"I never heerd tell as you was a harse," shouted the farmer. The wit
and force of the retort seemed to strike him even as he uttered it,
for his indignant expression was almost immediately replaced by a
good-humoured grin. "I had ye there, Mary," he chuckled. "'I never
heerd tell as you was a harse, says I."

Next churning day Mrs. Bold rose before dawn, according to her custom,
and the churning was already in progress before the first grey,
uncertain light of the autumnal morning began to diffuse itself
through the latticed milk-house windows. All at once, during a pause
in the labour, she fancied she heard a curious, hesitating fumbling
with the latch of the door.

"Hark!" she cried, "what's that?"

"Tis the wind," said one of the churners.

"Nay, look, somebody's a-tryin' to get in," returned the mistress, as
the latch rose in a ghostly manner, fluttered, and fell. "Go to the
door, Tom," she continued, "and see what's wanted."

"'Tis maybe a spirit," said Tom, shrinking back.

"Nonsense! What would a spirit want at the dairy door? 'Tis more like
a tramp. Open it at once--You go, Jane."

"I dursen't," said Jane, beginning to whimper.

"Not one of ye has a grain o' sense!" said Mrs. Bold angrily.

She went to the door herself, just as the odd rattling began for the
third time, opened it cautiously, and uttered a cry.

There stood the attenuated form of poor old Blackbird, looking huge
and almost spectral in the dim light, but proclaiming its identity by
a low whinny.

"Rabbit me!" exclaimed Tom, "if that there wold carcase ain't found
his way here again!"

But Mrs. Bold's arms were round the creature's neck, and she was
fairly hugging him.

"Well done!" she cried ecstatically, "well done! Ye did well to come
to I, Blackbird. I'll stand by ye, never fear! I'll not have ye drove
away again."

Blackbird stood gazing at her with his sunken eyes, his loose nether
lip dropping, his poor old bent knees bowed so that they seemed
scarce