“And is she content, this Nancy,” inquired Inman indifferently, “to be shut up in a village like this? Has she no desire, think you, to see the world and have her fling like other lasses?” The question ended on a half-suppressed yawn; but the landlord shot an inquiring glance before he replied: “You said you were moorland born yourself, and hankered after t’ moors. Maybe Nancy’s t’ same, but if you’ve signed on wi’ Baldwin you’ll be able to ask her. She’s been away a toathri weeks in a town; but whether it’s smittled her or no I know no more’n you. She’s back again, choose how. Maybe there’s summat i’ t’ village she can’t get i’ t’ town?” “Fresh air and sunshine?” queried Inman sleepily. “That’s so, I suppose; but lasses like pictures, and the pit of a music-hall or a band in the park in summer time, where they can see what other women carry on their heads and backs.” “Aye, that’s right enough,” responded the landlord; “but I’ve known when a pair o’ corduroy breeches and a coat you couldn’t pawn has had a bigger pull than all t’ ribbons and laces you could lay your hands on.” A quick light leaped to Inman’s eyes, and a frown that was instantly suppressed mounted his brow. “I see,” he queried, with an inflection of amusement; “then Miss Nancy has a lover?” “That’s more’n I’ve said,” replied the landlord curtly. “She doesn’t hand me her secrets to lock up.” Inman laughed and rose. “I’ll have a bed with you, landlord,” he said, “if you’ll get one ready. This good fire after a rough walk has made me sleepy. I’ll stroll round for half an hour before turning in.” ----- [1] Played marbles. CHAPTER III IN WHICH MANIWEL DRAKE MAKES A SUGGESTION THE cottage had its full complement of occupants when Jagger entered, and the noise of his “bass” as he dropped it on the stone floor and pushed it noisily with his foot alongside an old-fashioned chest of drawers that stood against the wall, caused each of them to look up. Hannah, his sister and the family housekeeper, turned again at once to the grid-iron on which something was grilling for the evening meal; but the father’s eyes fixed themselves on the young man’s face. “That’s right, lad,” he said, as he let the weekly paper he had been reading fall to his knees; “take it out of t’ bass! It’s as meek as Moses and’ll say naught. Who’s been treading on your corns this time?” “T’ bass may lie there while I find another job,” said Jagger surlily, untying his apron as he spoke. “I’m paid off. Baldwin’s stalled, and so am I.” Hannah said nothing, but an exclamation came from the other side of the hearth where Grannie Drake was busy with her darning needles—a wordless exclamation produced by the tip of the tongue and the roof of the mouth in conjunction; and the old woman rested her hands on her lap whilst she turned her spectacled eyes on her grandson.