arkness
by the window, and she saw then the form of a man edging nearer the
door.

"And who are you?" she asked a little nervously, but trying to master
the alarm in her voice.

"Do you not ken me?" replied the voice with an attempt to speak as
naturally as possible; yet there was something in the tone that made her
more uneasy.

Then the figure of the man drew nearer, and he whispered "Are they all
sleeping?" alluding to the inmates of the house.

"Ay," she answered, drawing back into the shelter of the doorway. "Why
do you ask? And what is it you want?"

"Oh, I just came along to see how you were all getting on," was the
reply. "I ken you must be in very straitened circumstances by this time,
and thought I might be able to help you a bit," and there was an
ingratiating tone in the words now as he sidled nearer. "You must have a
very hard battle just now, and I would like to do something to help
you."

"Come away in," said the woman, with still an uneasy tremor in her
voice, yet feeling more assured. "Geordie is sleeping, but he'll not be
hard to waken up. Come away in, and let us see who you are, and tell us
what you really want."

"No, I'm no' coming in," he whispered hoarsely. "Do you no' ken me? Shut
the door and not let any of them hear. I'm wanting you!" and he stepped
into the light and reached forward his hand, as if to draw her to him.

Mrs. Sinclair gasped and recoiled in horror, as she recognized who it
was that stood before her.

"No," she cried decisively, stepping further back into the shelter of
the house, her voice low and intense with indignation. "No, I have not
come to that yet, thank God. Gang home, you dirty brute, that you are!
I'll be very ill off when I ask anything, or take anything, from you,
Jock Walker!" For it was well known in Lowwood that Jock Walker's
errands to people in distress had always in them an ulterior motive.

He was the under manager at the pits, and his reputation was of the
blackest. There were men in the village of Lowwood who were well aware
of this man's relations with their wives, and they openly agreed to the
sale of the honor of their women folk in return for what he gave them in
the shape of contracts, at which they could make more money than their
neighbors, or good "places," where the coal was easier won. In fact, to
be a contractor was a synonym for this sort of dealing, for no one ever
got a contract from Walker unless his wife, or his daughter, was a