"Well, now, I did think this morning, while he war fair agate wi' his praching, an' th' words came out as thick as chaff at threshing-time, I did think he warn't exactly what he hed been. Ay, ay, it's a sad to-do when a man o' God goes speering after a pretty wench. An' her noan Ling Crag born, nawther. Nay, I misdoubt th' lad, i' th' latter end. May the Almighty keep me from women, and pardon all my sins, amen." "Th' women'll see to that for theirseln, Ephraim; doan't thee put thyseln about," chimed in an irreverent youngster from the rear. Greta Rotherson had passed out of earshot before the old woman launched her tit-bit of gossip, and she went home with a smile on her face. She was wondering at the change in the preacher--and thinking of that look on his face when first she came out of the water and sat on the pine-log with her little white feet tucked up under her dress. CHAPTER III. A MOOR WOMAN. Griff Lomax bethought him, early on Monday morning, that his friend the preacher would be better for a little more of the same treatment to which he had subjected him yesterday. He found Gabriel just coming down the stairs. "Well, old fellow, how are things with you to-day? You're late down, at any rate, and that means you have slept." "Ay, like a child," said the preacher, with a half-rueful, half-ashamed air. "Like a child, Griff--and that after I'd sinned grievously against the Lord." "Confound it, man," laughed Griff, "I wish I could drive it into you that you're a poorer hand at sinning than most of us. Just you tell yourself, Hirst, that the Lord has a pretty handful to look after, and that He can't spare you the exclusive attention you seem to count on: I should be ashamed to expect it, myself." "Griff, lad, don't make mock; try to soften your heart to the Lord, and His ways will come clear to you." The preacher's voice was tender. His yesterday's excitement had left him weak, and his heart turned to Lomax with a mixed feeling that the lad was at once a tower of strength and a weak unbeliever. "I don't mock in my heart, and you know it, Hirst. But I want to kick some of the nonsense out of you, and that's the truth of it. Now, I'm going to watch you eat your breakfast: what is there on the table? Humph! three slices of bread and butter, and tea--the tea is unconscionably weak, too, by the look of it." "Here--I say, Griff--what are you going to do?" cried Gabriel, as his visitor strode out of the room, and across the stone flags of the hall. Lomax, however, was in the kitchen by this time. The housekeeper was ironing one of Gabriel's coarse cotton shirts. "Betty Binns," said the intruder, "do you call yourself a woman of sense?" Mrs. Binns fairly gasped at that. It was bad enough that young Lomax should march into her kitchen without permission, but that he should forthwith give battle to her in this foolhardy way--"well, it did beät all."