'And I have many relatives, and more friends. But you?' 'I have none. I am alone in the world.' 'And then I have house and lands. And you?' 'I have the van.' 'A wandering house—no real house. What are you going to do with yourself?' 'That is just what I was considering as I walked along.' 'Will you tell me your plan?' 'I have none. I have not resolved what to do.' 'I am glad that I have caught you up. I sent on the waggon. I had to stay behind and make arrangements with the undertaker and the clerk. I am glad I remained; it has given me the opportunity of speaking with you. Our mutual losses make us fellows in sorrow, and you seem to me so piteously lonely. Even when I was in the wain my eyes wandered to you, and with my eyes went my thoughts. I could not fail to consider how much greater was your desolation than mine.' Again Zita turned to look at the young fellow who spoke. He had fair hair, bright blue eyes, a fresh, pleasant face, frank and kindly. 'I think you sold something to my father,' he said; 'I have heard the chaps talk about it. You sold it middling dear. A flail—and he paid a guinea for it.' 'Yes, I sold a flail for a guinea, and another for twelve and six. Mr. Drownlands bought one of them.' 'And my father the other. I was not at the fair when that took place, but folk have talked about it. I think, had I been there, I would have prevented my father bidding so high. The flail was not found with him when he was recovered from the river.' 'No; it was on the bank.' 'It was probably carried down by the Lark,' said he, not noticing her words, 'and went out in the Wash.' The flail! Zita was surprised. One flail she knew that Drownlands held when she met him, the other she had herself picked up, and had used to prevent him from continuing his course, and to compel him to assist her father. She stood still and considered. The matter was, however, of no consequence, so she stepped on. If she found the flail at Prickwillow, she would take it to Crumbland. It belonged to Mark Runham by right. 'What is it?' asked the young man, surprised at her look of concentrated thought. 'It is nothing particular,' she answered; 'something occurred to me—that is all. But it is of no matter.' 'I should like to know what is going to become of you,' said the young man. 'Have you no kindred at all?' 'None that I know of.' 'And no home?' 'None, as I said, but the van. When that is sold, I shall have none at all.' 'But you have friends?' 'A friend—yes—Jewel, the old horse. Well, he ain't so old, neither. I call him old because I love him.' 'I say, when you've made up your mind what to do with yourself, come to our farm, Crumbland, and tell me.' 'That's blazin' impudence,' said Zita. 'If you want to know, you can come and ask of me.'