"Here, I say!" broke in Griff, with a jolly laugh; "a joke's a joke, Jacky boy, but it's four good miles to Marshcotes Manor; you can't pull us all the way?" "An' a home-coming's a home-coming, an' a welcome's a welcome," answered mine host of the Dog and Grouse; "an' what's four mile to Marshcotes lads? We'll tak turn an' turn about; there's plenty on us for that little journey." "And there's a house-side called Marshcotes main street at the end of it. Have you thought of that, boys?" said Griff, still laughing. "Tak what the Lord gi'es ye, sir, an' mak no bones about it. Up ye get, an' away we go; an' if we're as willing as your wife's bonny, ye won't be lang on th' roäd." Jack o' Ling Crag, having exhausted himself in this effort of gallantry, ran forward and took his place at the left shaft of the conveyance. Kate was a little bewildered, and vastly pleased, by the unexpected symptoms of good-will; but her confusion did not signify in the least, since she was only expected to blush rosy red and look her best. They had cheered for Griff, and they had cheered for Kate, this crowd of hard uplanders, who could let themselves out for a holiday on occasion. So up went another three-times-three for the "little pracher," and Gabriel found himself swung by mighty arms on to the back seat of the trap. Jack was joined by five other stalwart volunteers, and away they rattled through the market-place, along the rutty, narrow streets, and so into the smooth highway that led to Marshcotes. All who had come on foot kept pace beside the gig; a little behind followed the green omnibus from the Bull, and the red 'bus from the White Hart just across the way. At the foot of Marshcotes main street was the surprise which old poacher Jack's innocent heart had devised, as likely to give his comrade about as much pleasure as a man could hold without unduly stretching his anatomy. The local band struck up its own private version of the wedding-march, and headed the triumphal procession with a vigour that was unimpeachable. "Now, sir, hes Marshcotes gi'en ye a welcome, or hesn't it?" demanded Jack, relinquishing his post at the shaft and going to Griff's side. "It has that! We'll not forget to-day, Kate, will we?" "Durn it, it's nowt so mich to crack on--on'y we thowt as we'd just try our best, Mr. Lummax," muttered Jack, and dropped modestly to the rear of the procession. Mrs. Lomax was at the Manor gate when they arrived. She had heard the shouting, and a tune that seemed vaguely connected with wedding festivals, and the clatter of clogs on the stones; but she could scarcely believe her eyes when she saw the fashion of Griff's home-coming, nor her ears when she heard the shouts of good fellowship. The old lady's eyes dimmed with tears; it was good to believe in such friendliness as had prompted these rackety demonstrations. Much would have more, and up went three cheers for the mother. Griff helped Kate down, kissed his mother, and turned to the crowd.