“That’s right, Balaam,” said Old Adam, laughing heartily. “It’ll mak’ uthers cock their ears an’ oppen their mooth besides thoo. Halleluia! Halleluia!” Either startled still more by the old man’s enthusiasm or else entering into the spirit of their triumph, Balaam gave tongue a second time, in a style that sent the two bystanders into such a fit of laughter that it threatened to endanger a blood-vessel. “What in the world’s up now?” said Farmer Houston, who suddenly appeared upon the scene. “Oop?” said Adam. “Why, ivverything’s oop! Methodism’s oop! Piggy Morris is oop! an’ oor sperrits is oop: mahne, an’ Nathan’s, an’ Balaam’s, an’ all!” Mr. Houston’s delight at the taking of Fort Midden Harbour was extreme, and it was agreed that information should be sent at once to Mr. Mitchell, that the good work might be forthwith begun. “We mun strike while t’ iron’s yat,” said Adam. “Mah wod, bud weean’t there be sum sparks! Bud we mun mind what we’re aboot. We sall hae te be as wise as sarpents; we’re gannin’ te put wer heeads intiv a wasp’s nest, an’ if we deean’t mind we sall get teng’d [stung] as seear as dayleet. Bud what’s ah talkin’ aboot? The Lord’ll draw their tengs frev ’em, an’ mak’ ’em as ’armless as bluebottles.” “I cannot understand,” said Farmer Houston, “how such a surly fellow as Piggy Morris, who never had a good word to say for us, has been won so completely over.” “Why,” said Blithe Natty, “I believe its all owing to my daughter. She’s managed to get round him somehow. He gave me to understand that much at my own door.” “God bless ’er!” said Adam Olliver, “an’ He will. Ah’s as sartain ’at there’s a breet futur’ befoore that bairn as ah is ’at we sall seean hev a chapil. The Lord’s fashionin’ on ’er for a great wark, an’ sae you’ll see.” The words were scarcely out of his mouth when the stately form of Squire Fuller was seen riding up to the Forge on his favourite and beautiful chestnut mare. With a nod of recognition to Farmer Houston, and a kindly smile on Adam Olliver, he said,-- “Nathan Blyth, can I have a word with you in private?” Nathan touched his forelock, as in duty bound, and led the squire through a door which opened on a narrow passage leading to the house. Farmer Houston and Adam Olliver exchanged glances of interest and wonder. “The Lord’s workin’,” said the latter, simply. “Yance Natty Blyth had te gan tiv ’im. Noo, he ’ez te cum te Natty Blyth. What’s oop ah deean’t knoa, but ah knoa ’at t’ prayers o’ God’s people ’s at yah end, an’ ’at Nestleton chapil’s at t’uther, an’ the Lord’s linkin’ on ’em tegither.” “The old squire’s looking very grey and haggard,” said Farmer Houston, “and how bent and bowed he is!” “Ah’s freeten’d he dizn’t knoa where te tak’ his trubbles. If he wad nobbut tak’ ’em te t’ Cross, that’s the spot te get rid on ’em. At ony rate he wad get strength te bide ’em.”