Could any spirit be endowed with such a pair of sturdy arms as those which were now thrown about her, or be capable of bestowing such resounding and fervent salutes as those which were presently rained on brow and cheeks? Martha uttered one blood-curdling yell, and then stood still. “Why, my pretty,” cried Sam’s voice, which sounded very real and comfortable, “what be all this shindy? Have anybody been a-frightenin’ of ye? Have that rascal Bob been up to any games?” Still clutching her in a tight embrace, he looked fiercely round. “Bob!” ejaculated Martha. “Bob! Why what should he—” She broke off suddenly, adding with a wail of recurrent anguish: “Oh, Sam—oh, Sam, ye don’t know what I’ve a-seen this night! There, my heart be fair broke. I can never tell ’ee, but if ye knowed!” “Nonsense, my maid,” cried Sam with a reassuring squeeze. “Ye haven’t seen nothing at all. I’ve been a-sittin’ in church-porch all the time an’ nothin’ have come nigh the place.” “What!” gasped Martha, “’twas yourself—your own self as comed here—I—did think ’twas your sperret. Why whatever made ye walk so queer?” With a chuckle Sam uplifted a large broad foot protected only by a stocking. “I thought, ye see,” he explained, “as that there silly Bob ’ud very like be up to some tricks—makin’ believe to appear to ye, or some such thing—so, thinks I to myself, I’ll just bide handy in porch and if he do try it on I’ll pounce out on him.” “Oh,” said Martha, “why I don’t suppose he knows naught about nothing of the kind.” “Ye didn’t tell him your grandma’s tale, then?” said Sam, with a note of incredulous delight in his voice. “N—no,” said Martha—“I didn’t reckon ’twould interes’ him, d’ye see. ’Twas different wi’ you.” And then Sam laughed long and loud. “Martha,” he said at last, “I take back all as I said agen this here old custom—I can see as there be sense in it. Ah, a deal o’ sense in it. My sperret, d’ye see, was very anxious to come to ’ee, Martha—that anxious that it did take the rest o’ me along wi’ it. I shouldn’t wonder if the rest of the tale was to come true too—about gettin’ married soon arter, ye know.” “P’r’aps I’ll have summat to say about that,” tittered Martha coyly. “Ye can’t say nothin’ but the one thing,” returned Sam triumphantly. “’Twouldn’t be lucky!” JOHNNY AT SHROTON FAIR. Oh, dear, what can the matter be? Johnny’s so long at the Fair!