And now, good reader, this narrative nears its close. Neither Daft Billy nor Ephraim was ever seen in our parts again, so far a I know, but some months after the crime, when folk had found something else to talk about, a stranger, whose swarthy complexion and dark locks proclaimed him a gypsy, knocked at my father's door and, handing to Miriam an ill-written letter, was gone before she could question him. It ran thus:-- DEAR MIRIAM This from Billy, to let you know all's well with him. Ephraim's gone for a soger, which is all he's fit for. You'll never see him or me again, though belike I'st see you, when you little think it. I'm cow jobbing in Wales, but keep that to yourself. There's reasons why I don't want to be seen Burnplatts way this many a year. I thought it was them Bradburys kidnapped you, but Eph. has owned up as it was him. I think Eph. was mad with drink, and I was mad for what I thowt they'd done to you. Any way, get wed as soon as you like. I'st noan be theer to drink your health, but nobody 'll miss. DAFT BILLY. The reading of this letter put our studying caps on again, and I think we were all willing to let sleeping dogs lie. My own firm conviction is that Ephraim and the Bradburys were at high words, perhaps at blows, that Billy burst upon them like a tiger, seized the first weapon he saw, struck blindly, heedless where his blows fell, that there was a general scuffle, in which probably Ephraim joined, that the old man was the first to succumb, though not actually killed; that Tom tried to make for the door, and was struck down and left a corpse in the passage; that Eph. and Billy fled across the moors, of which they knew every inch, made their way to Burnplatts, where they lay in hiding till the hue and cry died out, and then found it easy enough to make off to distant parts. However, there was one sentence in the letter which I found very much to my liking--the advice to get wed at once. Jim and I had got Mitchell Mill into good going' order, and though we were much handicapped by the smallness of our means we were not doing so badly. I broached the matter to Jim, and he was as keen as mustard on an early marriage. It was arranged that the cottage by the mill should be the home of Miriam and myself; that Ruth and Jim should start housekeeping with Mary in Wrigley Mill Fold. "Aren't you feared, Ruth," asked Mary, "to set up wi' a mother-i'-law?" "Not with such a mother-in law as I know you'll be, Mary." "Well, you take an old woman's advice, Ruth; when you get wed, remember it may be 'Bear and forebear.'" "Aye, Jim will be th' Bear and I'st be Forbear, I suppose." But Mary would not allow even my pert sister to call her idol, Jim, a bear--even in jest.