“He be to live! Doctor says he be to live!” Her voice faltered and broke, the tears leaped from her eyes. “Thank God!” she cried. “Oh, thank God! He’ll live! My Jim’s to live!” Dick came staggering forth from his cell. His brown face was blanched to a sickly pallor; he trembled in every limb. Choking back her sobs, Betty again extended her hand to him, and he wrung it; but, turning from her, he leaned against the wall, hiding his face. His shoulders were heaving. “Doctor says he’ll not die,” pursued Betty betwixt laughing and crying. “He’s young and strong, he says, and he’ll get over it. ‘We’ll get as much lead as we can out of him,’ says doctor, ‘and he’ll carry the rest quite comfortable, as many another has done before him.’” She laughed a feeble, wavering laugh that ended in a sob. “He said we’d best get him upstairs and put him to bed,” continued Betty. “Stubbs and another man come up from the village, so they carried him up; and doctor’s been with him a long time, and he’s sleepin’ now.” She told her tale brokenly, with a little gasp between each word; but Dick made no comment. Presently he turned round again, his face still working. “Mrs. Whittle,” he said unsteadily, “I’d like ye to hear me say so solemn as I can, as I’ll never lay another finger on any creature in the woods. I’ll never touch another feather----” “Oh, it’s all right, it’s all right!” interrupted she quickly. “I’d like ye to hear _me_ say summat too. I was mad last night, but I bain’t so hard-hearted as I made out. Even if my Jim had died I wouldn’t never ha’--I wouldn’t ha’ made a widow of your poor wife, nor yet an orphan o’ the baby.” THE WOLD STOCKIN’. Farmer Hunt stood leaning over his farmyard gate with the reflective, and at the same time pleasantly expectant, expression of the man who awaits at any moment a summons to dinner. To him, picking her steps cautiously down the muddy lane which led to his premises, came old Becky Melmouth, her skirts tilted high and an empty basket on her arm. Farmer Hunt nodded at her good-humouredly, and hailed her as soon as she was within hearing. “What!” cried he. “Have ye brought me another of ’em?” “I’ve a-brought ye two,” returned Becky triumphantly. “But maybe you’re too busy to attend to me just now,” she added, with a glance that was half apologetic and half appealing. “Oh, I can spare a minute for that,” said the farmer good-naturedly. “Brewery hooter’s not gone yet, and we don’t have dinner till one. Step in, Mrs. Melmouth.”