with a wistful air, he surmised it might be better to fight by proxy, to let him pick a quarrel with Long Tom, as he said they called the soldier who had misused our Mary so. But he did not try long on that tack and had to content himself with hoping that some day or night, one of the red coats would try his game on with Martha and then--Glory Hallelujah! I smiled and 'Siah read my thoughts but he only said: "Oh! them sort's noan particular. An' there's points about Martha, mind you, there's points about Martha." At the Red Lion we found John Race, the little, round, red faced landlord in no very good humour. It was early in the day for drinking, to my taste, but 'Siah having a nice sense of honour in these matters, declared we must have some thing for the good of the house and offered, if I could not stomach a pint myself, to drink my share. So I called for a quart for 'Siah. Race handled my money very lovingly and then spit over it for luck. "It's little of the ready comes my way now, Ben," he said. "What! and a houseful of soldiers, John?" "Oh! dun-not speak on it, Ben," he cried. "It's a ruined man I shall be if this goes on another month. It's 'John' here and 'landlord' there from morning till night or till next morning rather. And paying for their drink is just the last thing they think of. Th' kitchen door is white wi' chalk, and, well I know it's no use keeping the scores. It's just force of habit. "But surely, John, you need not serve them unless they pay." "It's easy talking, Ben. Th' law's one thing, but a house full o' soldiers is another. And aw cannot be everywhere an' my dowter an' th' servant, an' for owt aw know th' missus hersen are all just in a league to ruin me. Their heads are all turned wi' th' soldiers an' such carryin's on in a decent man's house wer nivver seen before or since." "But what about the officer in command?" "What, him! Complaining to him is just like falling out with the devil an' going to hell for justice. Sometimes he laughs at me, sometimes he swears at me, sometimes he sneers at me, and to cap all, when I turn, as a trodden worm will turn at times, he just tells me to go clean the pewters, and send mi dowter to amuse him. An' th' warst on it is 'oo's willin' enough to go. What will be th' end of it all, is fair beyond me. But nine months 'll tell a tale i' Marsden, or my name's not John Race." John would have run on for ever, but I was anxious to get my own business done so I bade him show me up to the Captain's room. The landlord's own private sitting room and an adjoining bedroom had been appropriated by the officer, and I followed John up the narrow, creaking, stairs. At a door on the landing he knocked, and a thin voice within called on us to enter and be damned to us.