Here was a state of affairs! A state of affairs sufficiently startling. A few weeks ago John Herring had been his own master, with no one depending on him, and without responsibility. Now he was in a measure responsible for three girls. Mirelle, it is true, had asserted her independence, but she had nevertheless imposed on him obligations. Cicely made no scruple of declaring that she relied on him for direction, not to be got from a father never very dependable, and now enfeebled in mind and body. Joyce now informed him that she had transferred her allegiance to him from her father, and he had seen so far into her dark mind as to perceive that what she said she meant, and what she meant she acted on. ’Here,’ said Joyce, ’you put your hand on my elbow.’ ’Why on your elbow?’ ’I can feel there what I want to feel. My hands be as hard as my feet, and they don’t feel much. When I wants to know if the porridge be scalding, or whether I can eat ’n, I don’t put a finger in, I put my elbow. Now do as I ax’y. Put your hand there.’ She made Herring place his hand above the splints on the elbow. Then she fixed her eyes on him and asked, ’Wot’s her name?’ ’Whose name?’ ’Her wi’ the white face.’ ’What—Mirelle!’ The name dropped involuntarily from his lips. ’You may take your hand away,’ she said, ’I know what I wanted to know.’ ’What did you want to know, Joyce?—the name?’ ’Ah! I wanted to know more nor that; and I’ve a learned all in a minute.’ She paused, still intently watching him. Presently she asked, ’Where did you take her to? Where do you live? Did’y take her to your own home?’ ’No, Joyce, of course I did not.’ ’Why of course? You likes her more than any other.’ ’I—I—Joyce! are you daft?’ ’I bain’t daft,’ answered the girl. ’What I’ve a found out I know. My elbow told me the truth. When you had your hand on my arm one day I said to’y something about Miss Cicely, and your hand were quiet as if I spoke about a tatie to one wi’ a full belly. But when I axed about the Whiteface—I cannot mind her name—then you gave a start, and your hand shocked. We’m friends, you and I, and you won’t hide nothing from me. Where be Whiteface to now?’ ’I took her to some relations—cousins of hers.’ ’Ah! we’ve folks (kindred) too out to Nymet, but ours be reg’lar savages. We have clothes to our backs, and taty ground, and a new take. I reckon Whiteface’s folk be of other sort.’ ’Of course they are. She is comfortable and well cared for by them.’ ’Why didn’t they come and fetch her away when her father broke his neck, instead of leaving you to take care of her and take her away?’ That was not a question Herring could easily answer.