ends.

Wringing her hands and ruefully shaking her head, Mary walked first to
one end and then to the other of the long room. Finally she broke out
in healthy Yorkshire dialect: "Wheere, oh, wheere can that lad John
be? I'm crazed wi' all this trouble; nivver did I see the missus so
worked up before, and she winna change her mind, no matter what is
said. I'm just as sure as I can be that if they part now they'll
nivver come together again. Who'd a thow't it 'ud ever come to this
between 'em." She fairly panted with the burden of her feelings.

Just as she was about to break out into fresh lamentations, the door
slowly opened, disclosing the sober face and lean figure of John
Herbert Bedford Lawson, confidential servant to Mr. Townsley.

"Eh, lad, but I'm right glad to see thee!" exclaimed Mary, as she
caught hold of John's meagre arm and unceremoniously hurried him into
the room. For some reason or other, Mr. Lawson evinced no especial
pleasure at seeing the comely Mary, as was clearly demonstrated by the
ungallant manner in which he tried to brace himself back as she drew
him forward.

When finally released, he said in a sceptical voice, as he indignantly
put to rights his disturbed linen:

"Oh, thou art glad to see me, art thou? P'raps thou art; strange
things happen in this world. Yet I'll be bound that it's not for
myself thou art glad." While speaking, he knitted his eyebrows in a
most menacing manner. He was a small, thin man, about forty-five
years of age, and clean shaven. As he stood eyeing Mary through his
glasses he looked a crusted character enough.

"Nay, lad," she said reproachfully, putting her hand on his arm,
"don't thou talk in a tone like that and look so sour; it don't become
thee; it's not natural, too, and thou knows it." Then she went on
anxiously: "Thou knows what is troubling me; thou art the maister's
private servant, and he must have told thee what has happened. Now we
mun think o' something, John, to stop 'em from breaking up in this
way. We daren't go and tell anyone else about the trouble, so do, lad,
do try and think o' something, for there's no time to be lost." In her
excitement and distress she almost shook him.

The repellent look was still on John's face as he replied more
ungraciously than before: "Nay, I can think o' nowt. I can tell thee,
though, that the maister's told me to have the carriage ready to catch
the train that goes east at nine" (he turned and looked at the clo