“Nay--I spy him!” said Harriet. “Yonder he is!” She darted off, and mingled with the men. Her eyes shone, and she seemed to set herself to some effort. A huge fellow barred her way. “Where for, i’ such a hurry?” and she broke into a shrill laugh. “My ain gait, my owd love--kiss thy Nancy!” She took the man’s bleared face between her hands, and set her own cheek against it. “Out, ye trollop!” “An’ out yoursel’, ye greasy muck-slut; tch, ye filthy dozen! Here’s my man.--Doady, come, let’s shak’ a leg, Doady! Wilt dance wi’ thy Nancy? ‘Shak’ it a little, a little, a little. An’ turn ye roundabout!’” she sang, and flung her arms about another fellow. “Nay, thou’s beslubbered my face, chuck; never heed; ain muck’s sweet, an’ thou’s my ain Charlie; a kiss, now! Sink, but we’re as threng as three i’ a bed! Hey, my bonnie black boys!” She turned this way and that among the men, making herself outrageous; and then she slipped out of the ring and sought Harry. She found him, hidden from the leaping of the fire behind the old pike-keeper’s heap of furniture. “Whatever are ye doin’ here, Harriet?” he whispered. “Tch! Dinnat waste a minute,” she replied hoarsely; “come, thy face. There’s th’ muck o’ a dozen greasy rascals here,” she chattered, as she besmirched him. “I’ll lend thee brass for another trap i’ Horton--whisht! ye gormless fool; tak’ it an’ owe it! I ha’ scarce grime enow; we maun mak’ it do. Faugh, what a stock-pot it is! But ’tis worth a crown a scrape. Lig thy cheek agen mine, Harry.--There, there, twa seconds; all th’ muck we can!” He felt how she trembled throughout her frame. “Now thou’s foul enow for hell-kitchen.--O my heart!--Come, don this, quick!” Her hands fumbled at her waist, and she thrust a petticoat down hurriedly. He stared like a wittol. “Dinnat stand there gapin’ like a throttled cat; step into ’t, an’ put this about thy shoulders. De’il tak’ me if th’ Lad-lass isna mair a man nor onny o’ em! But woman maist: O Harry!--Awa’ wi’ thee now! I’ll go smear Bessie, an’ ye maun off o’ th’ mare. Here’s brass--an’ bless ye!” She was off with her hand at her breast. “Where is he?” the farmer roared. He was at Harry’s elbow, but did not recognise him; and Harriet drew Bessie towards the tree where the mare stood, and fouled her face. “Up ye get; leave room for him i’ front; he can swing up by th’ branch. Nay, he’d best lead her ower by yon pasture.” Bessie flung her arms about Harriet’s neck. “Oh, Harriet!” she said chokingly; “whether we get awa’ or not, how I lo’e thee!” “Ho’d thy whisht; dinnat begin to be a fool now! He’ll hire a trap i’ Horton; ye’ll be i’ Sedbergh to-morn; nay, to-day, for sitha at th’ hills yonder. I’ll tak’ th’ linchpins out o’ both traps. Here, rub this bit o’ earth on, an’ tee th’ han’kercher round thy chin! And now kiss me afore I go find him.--Th’ hengments! What’s yon?”