She had thought that she had loved the latter, and there could be no doubt that he was younger and richer and comelier than the man whom she had married, and he had bent tender eyes on her such as a girl loves. But there had come a little rift between them, and when she had been obliged to leave the village and go to keep house for an uncle some distance off, the rift had widened, and then she had heard that he had married another. That other was the very girl she had come to see to-night, and she was just wondering whether she would like to meet the man or no. But as she was secretly determining on the exact measure of scorn she would throw into her manner, and wondering if her beauty was in any way dimmed since he had seen her, fate decided for her, for the door of the mill-house opened, and she heard his voice on the threshold. “Come, leave that whimperin’, Milly, do,” said the voice sharply, but not unkindly. “I never see sich a gal! Ye be allers low-spirited now-a-days. Why can’t ye be cheerful a-nussin’ o’ the baby, and let a man go ’bout ’is business?” “Oh, Dan, I don’t want ye to go to the ‘Public’ to-night,” said the woman within, and there was no doubt that the tone did lay itself open to the accusation of a whimper. “Ye come ’ome so late last night, and I bain’t strong yet, ye know. I’ve been alone all day—I don’t want ye to go out agin.” “Late! Lor’ bless me, it weren’t gone ten o’clock!” retorted the man. “You’d want a ’usbin’ allers ’oppin’ around ye! I bain’t that sort! When be ye goin’ to pluck up and show a feller a jolly face, and get about yer work agin—eh?” “Ye’re niver goin’ to throw it up agin me as I bain’t strong, and baby not six weeks old,” began the woman, the whimper bidding ominously fair to swell to greater volume. Then Martha heard a rough, quick, jovial expostulation, and then a big, loud kiss; the whimpering grew softer, and a moment after the door slammed to, and she saw a man come striding towards her down the garden-walk in the dusk. At first she had a silly desire to run, but a moment after she laughed at the very thought, and felt that she really didn’t care. So she walked straight up to the garden-gate, and put her hand on the latch at the very same instant as the man reached it. “What be your business, ma’am, please?” he began, then quickly changing his tone added: “Why I’m blowed if it ain’t Martha Bond!” The young woman laughed. “Oh, no, ’tain’t!” said she. “It’s Martha Hewson. I be married, same as you.” “Well, I’m pleased to ’ear it, I’m sure,” said the man, without being in the least ruffled, “and no ill-will bore, I can see, which there bain’t no cause, o’ course.” “O’ course not,” agreed she. “Ill-will, indeed! I should like to know what for?” “Least said, soonest mended, I s’pose,” assented the man with a jolly laugh. “And where might you be livin’ now-a-days?”