’What do you want here?’ asked Mrs. Veale, hastily replacing the packet and the dog on the mantel-shelf. ’Why have you come? We’ve had enough of you Luxmores already. Your brother Charles has played us a pretty tune, and now your sister’s like to lead a dance.’ ’I have come for Honor. Is she here?’ ’She—no! She’s been gone some time. Ain’t she home? Perhaps she’s walking over the land, and counting the acres that may be hers, and prizing the fleeces of the sheep.’ ’She is wanted. As for Charles, there’s naught proved against him, and till there is, I won’t believe it. I’ve just had a talk with someone, and he tells me another tale altogether. So there—not another word against poor Charles. He wasn’t ever sweet on you, I can tell you. ’Tis a pity, too, about those dogs. They’re both water-spaniels—what intelligent eyes they have, and what lovely long curly ears! They ought to be a pair some day.’ ’I tell you,’ said Mrs. Veale, ’your sister is not here.’ ’Our dog,’ went on Kate, unabashed, ’don’t belong to father. He is Honor’s own. She had the pair, till Joe knocked one of them over. Her mother gave it her. ’Tis curious now that her dog should turn his blessed nose one way, and this dog should turn his nose the other way. It looks as if they were made for each other, which is more than is the case with some that want to be pairing. A mantel-shelf don’t look as well with a spaniel in the middle as it do with one at each end. That is, I suppose, why your master is looking out for a wife. Well! I think he’d have matched better with you than with someone else whom I won’t name. A house with one in it is like a mantel-shelf with one odd dog on it. Does this chimney ornament belong to you or to the house?’ ’Never mind, go your ways. Don’t you think ever to pair them two dogs, nor your sister and the master. There is a third to be considered. If one be broken, there is no pairing. Do y’ know what the ash said to the axe? Whether coupled or counter is wisht (unlucky) for me, My wood makes the haft for to fell my tree.’ *CHAPTER XXXIII.* *AMONG THE GORSE.* ’Where be you going to, Larry?’ asked his father. ’I’ve just seen the Red Spider running Langford way. Take care Uncle Taverner don’t sloke that one away as he tried to sloke t’other.’ Hearing that Honor was gone over the moor to Langford, Hillary took that direction, and, as he had expected, encountered her as she was returning to her cottage, before she had left the down. ’You are going to give me a quarter of an hour,’ said Larry. ’I dare say you may be busy, but I can’t spare you till we’ve had it out with each other. I’ve but one arm now that I can use, but I’ll bar the way with that, if you attempt to escape me.’