Directly it was over, she fled, taking the narrow path by the side of
the church to the fields; but before she was half way across the first
field, she heard a quick step following her. Beth felt she must stop
short--or run; she began to run.

"Beth! Beth! wait for me," he called.

Beth stopped, then turned to greet him shyly; but when he came close,
and put his arm round her, she looked up smiling. They gazed into each
other's eyes a moment, and then kissed awkwardly, like children.

"Were you any the worse for our adventure?" he asked. "I've been
longing to know."

"I had a headache yesterday," said Beth. "How were you?"

"All stiff and aching," he replied, "or I should have been to ask
after you."

"I'm glad you didn't come," Beth ejaculated.

"Why? I ought to know your people, you know. Why don't the Richardsons
know them?"

"Because we're poor," Beth answered bluntly; "and Mr. Richardson
neglects his poor parishioners."

"All the more reason that I should call," Alfred Cayley Pounce
persisted. "You are people of good family like ourselves, and old Rich
is a nobody."

"Yes," said Beth; "but my mother would not let me know you. She and I
are always--always--we never agree, you know. I don't think we can
help it; we certainly don't do it on purpose--at least _I_ don't; but
there's something in us that makes us jar about everything. I was
going to tell her all about you on Sunday night; but when I got in I
couldn't. She began by being angry because I was late, without waiting
to know if I were to blame, and that--that shut me up, and I never
told her; and now I don't think I could."

"But what objection can she have to me?" he asked loftily. "I really
must make her acquaintance."

"Not through me, then," said Beth. "Do you know the Benyons?"

"No, I don't know anybody in the neighbourhood as yet. I'm here with
old Rich to be crammed. My people are trying to force me into the bar
or the church or something, because I want to be a sculptor."

"Don't be forced," said Beth with spirit. "Follow your own bent. I
mean to follow mine."

"I didn't know girls had any bent," he answered dubiously.

There was a recoil in Beth. "How is it people never expect a girl to
do anything?" she exclaimed, firing up.

"I don't see what a girl can do," he rejoined, "except marry and look
after her husband and children."

"That's all right at the proper time," Beth said. "But meanwhile, and
if she doesn't marry, is