But there was a man in Cumberland who knew Mr. Bonnithorne from the crown of his head to the sole of his foot. That man was Mr. Hugh Ritson. Never for an instant did either of these palter with the other. When Mr. Bonnithorne left the charcoal pit, he followed the road that crossed the Newlands Beck, and returned on the breast of the Eel Crags. This led him close to the booth where the sports were proceeding. He heard, as he passed, the gurgling laugh with which the dalesfolk received the peddler's story of how he saw Paul Ritson at Hendon. A minute afterward he encountered Hugh Ritson on the road. There was only the most meagre pretense at greeting when these men came face to face. "Your father sent for me," said Mr. Bonnithorne. "On what business?" Hugh Ritson asked. "I have yet to learn." They walked some steps without speaking. Then the lawyer turned with his constant smile, and said in his soft voice: "I have just seen your little friend. She looks pale, poor thing! Something must be done, and shortly." Hugh Ritson's face flushed perceptibly. His eyes were on the ground. "Let us go no further in this matter," he said, in a low tone. "I saw her yesterday. Then there is her father, poor, broken creature! Let it drop." "I did not believe it of you!" Mr. Bonnithorne spoke calmly and went on smiling. "Besides, I am ashamed. The thing is too mean," said Hugh Ritson. "In what turgid melodrama does not just such an episode occur?" "So, so! Or is it the story of the cat in the adage? You would and you wouldn't?" "My blood is not thick enough. I can't do it." "Then why did you propose it? Was it your suggestion or mine? I thought to spare the girl her shame. Here her trouble must fall on her in battalions, poor little being. Send her away, and you decimate them." "It is unnecessary. You know I am superior to prejudice." Hugh Ritson dropped his voice and said, as if speaking into his breast: "If the worst comes to the worst, I can marry her." Mr. Bonnithorne laughed lightly. "Ho! ho! And in what turgid melodrama does not just such an episode occur?" Hugh Ritson drew up sharply. "Why not? Is she poor? Then what am I? Uneducated? What is education likely to do for me? A simple creature, all heart and no head? God be praised for that!" At this moment a girl's laugh came rippling through the air. It was one of those joyous peals that make the heart's own music. Hugh Ritson's pale face flushed a little, and he drew his breath hard. Mr. Bonnithorne nodded his head in the direction of the voice, and said softly: "So our friend Greta is here to-day?" "Yes," said Hugh Ritson very quietly. Then the friends walked some distance in silence. "It is scarcely worthy of you to talk in this brain-sick fashion," said Mr. Bonnithorne. There was a dull irritation in the tone. "You place yourself in the wrong point of view. You do not love the little being."