'Tuesday was market-day at Penrith, and Betty, who thought she would have everything ready, sent to buy meat for the funeral dinner. 'On Wednesday Bailey pronounced Willy rather fresher, but noticed that Betty seemed by no means glad; and this went on for two or three visits, until Betty's patience was quite exhausted, and in answer to the doctor's opinion that he was fresher than he expected to have seen him and might live a few days longer, she exclaimed-- '"Hang leet on him! He allus was maist purvurse man I ivver knew, an wad nobb't du as he wod! Meat'll aw be spoilt this het weather." '"Never mind," said Bailey, soothingly, "you can buy some more." '"Buy mair, say ye?" she returned indignantly. "I'll du nowt o't mack; he mud ha deet when he shapt on't, that mud he, en hed a dinner like other fok, but noo I'll just put him by wi' a bit breead an cheese." 'As a matter of fact, the meat was spoilt, and had to be buried a day or two before the old man died.' Hugh Marsden's look of horror at the conclusion of the vicar's anecdote was so comical that Dr. Heriot could not conceal his amusement; but at this moment a singular incident put a check to the conversation. For the last few minutes Polly had seemed unusually restless, and directly Mr. Lambert had finished, she communicated in an awe-stricken whisper that she had distinctly seen the tall shadow of a man lurking behind the wall of the old cotton-mill, as though watching their party. 'I am sure he is after no good,' continued Polly. 'He looks almost as tall and shadowy as Leonard in Dr. Heriot's story; and he was crouching just as Leonard did when the phantom of the headless maiden came up the glen.' Of course this little sally was received with shouts of laughter, but as Polly still persisted in her incredible story, the young men declared their intention of searching for the mysterious stranger, and as the girls wished to accompany them, the little party dispersed across the glen. Mildred, who was busy with one of the maids in clearing the remnants of the feast and choosing a place where they should boil their gipsy kettle, heard every now and then ringing peals of laughter mixed with odd braying sounds. Chriss was the first to reappear. 'Oh, Aunt Milly,' she exclaimed breathlessly, 'what do you think Polly's mysterious Leonard has turned out to be? Nothing more or less than an old donkey browsing at the head of the glen. Polly will never hear the last of it.' 'Leonard-du-Bray "In a bed of thistles,"' observed Richard, mischievously. 'Oh, Polly, what a mare's nest you have made of it.' Polly looked hot and discomposed; the laugh was against her, and to put a stop to their teasing, Mildred proposed that they should all go up to the Fox Tower as they had planned, while she stayed behind with her brother.