'Lor', to be sure, what a pretty necklace! Shells do you say, sir? I never saw such shells in my born days--green and white; and what a grand silver comb--that will please Biddy and no mistake--and a brooch for my daughter--well, to be sure! But I favour the shells most,' and the old man fingered the necklace made of the pearly shells, shot with green, which are to be found on the shores of the South Pacific ocean. 'And both of 'em for Biddy--and Bet a brooch like aunt's and a pin for her cap. Well,' said the old man, in whose veins the punch was circulating, and giving a comfortable sense of warmth and contentment, 'you are turning out a good friend, sir, after all, Mr Bayfield, sir. I thought you must have something of your good father in you, though at first you seemed a bit rough--you'll excuse me for saying so.' Meanwhile, there lay the gifts on the table. Dorothy took up her brooch, and making a bob-curtsy, said,-- 'I'm greatly obleeged to you, sir, I am sure.' Betty, uncertain whether to speak before Bryda did, looked questioningly at her sister. Bryda stood motionless, feeling the Squire's eyes were on her. Presently he took up the necklace and said,-- 'Permit me to clasp it on a neck which is fair as--' But Bryda put up her hand to prevent it, and started back. Suddenly the necklace became like a fetter which would bind her to the man who gave it. But Mr Bayfield was not to be baffled. As Bryda retreated he advanced, the necklace in his hand, till Bryda stood under the mistletoe bough. Then he caught her hand, and saying, 'I take my privilege here,' he put his arm round her and kissed her on the lips as he clasped the necklace round her slender throat. Like a lion from his lair Jack Henderson sprang on the Squire, and shouted,-- 'You villain! how dare you?' Instead of an angry retort the Squire only laughed ironically,-- 'My good fellow, you may have your turn now. All is fair under the mistletoe bough at Christmas.' Then, with a bow and a 'Good-night to you all,' the Squire departed, whistled to his groom, who had been holding his horse under cover in one of the farm sheds, and was gone. Bryda, with burning cheeks, unfastened the hateful necklace, flung it down, and rushed out of the kitchen, regardless of her grandfather's repeated exclamations,-- 'What are you about, you saucy baggage? And you, you lout, Jack, go and wait on the Squire, and see to his horse. What ails you--eh? It is not often a gentleman like that crosses our threshold and behaves so affable like and friendly.' 'Curse him!' was all that Jack could reply. 'If you think he is a gentleman, I say he is a villain. Good-night,' and then poor Jack, fuming and helpless, went out into the snowy night. CHAPTER XII THE FINAL BLOW. Betty found that to question Bryda as to the cause of her wrath against Mr Bayfield was useless.