"Pity's o' kin to love," quoted Mary. "An' aw tell ye', wi' precious little encouragement an' th' chapter o' accidents helpin', yo'd ha' been sprawling at Faith's little feet, an 'ud ha' gone to yo'r grave believin' yo'd loved her sin' first yo' set eyes on her." "And who was it taught me the difference atween love and pity, Mary?" I asked. "How should I know and why should I care quoth Mary. "No voice has ever told me, Mary, but the voice of my own heart; no words that maid e'er spoke, but a pair of arms around my neck and a maid's kiss upon my brow." "Then if that's all yo'r warrant, I'd 'vise yo' not to be over certain on it. There's many a slip 'twixt the cup 'an the lip, an' a woman doesn't like a felly to be too sure." "Nay, if yo'd have me plead on," I began and asked nothing better than to say my say; but Mary had ever a way of slipping from my grasp. "Do yo' think I've nowt better to do nor listenin' to this nonsense? We wer' talkin' about Faith, an' how we wandered off aw' cannot tell." "Well what of Faith?" "Aw tell yo', Ben, Faith thought more of George Mellor's little finger nor of all yo'r big body. Aye an' still thinks. He's her hero. Her brother stuffed her head wi' such a pack o' nonsense that she thinks George the finest man that ever lived, and yo' not much better nor a coward for deserting him. She frets because he doesn't come here, and there's no tellin' what mak' o' folly her silly fancy mayn't lead her to." "But George cares nowt for her," I said. "What's that to do wi' it? Let a felly go sighing an' pinin' after a wench--an' it's long odds she'll laugh i' his long face. Let him seem beyond her reach an' it's just as likely she'll break her heart longing for him." "Does she know about Horsfall?" "Of course she does." "What, all?" "Aye, all. I took care she should." "Well?" "Well, she doesn't believe a word of it." CHAPTER XI.