“He be coming,” returned Sol. “’Tis queer work for a maid, an’ lwonesome too.” “’Tis a bit lwonesome just about here,” she agreed. “I do generally have company part of the time, but nobody comes our ways much, an’ this ’ere bit o’ lane an’ the track over the down is lwonesome, once it do get so dark.” “There he goes!” exclaimed Sol, as the stone, yielding to an especially vigorous tap, dropped into the road. “I’ll walk a bit alongside of ’ee in case the harse should go lame or anything.” “Oh, no need to come so far out of your road,” returned she. “I’ll not trouble you.” Sol, without heeding this protest, picked up the lantern, and restored it to its place, and then extended a hand to assist the girl to mount. She accepted his help, seated herself, and gathered up the reins once more. “Good night, and thank ye,” said she. “I’m comin’ part o’ the road wi’ ye,” said Sol, exactly as if he had made no such suggestion before. She chirruped to the horse and it plodded on, Sol’s tall figure keeping pace with it. Presently he rested one hand upon the shaft, the lantern-light revealing how strong it was, and brown. “My name’s Solomon Bowditch,” he remarked. “Oh, an’ be it?” she returned faintly. “E-es. What be yours?” “Sally Roberts.” “Tranter Sally,” remarked Sol with a laugh. “They call me that sometimes,” she conceded. “Here we be at the top of the hill, Mr Bowditch. I be goin’ to make en trot now.” “I can trot too,” said Sol, and indeed his long legs carried him along at a pace that shamed the shambling efforts of poor Diamond. Sally protested, scolded, and finally laughed: Sol took no notice of any of these modes of procedure, his tall figure jogged along at the same steady pace, just a little in front of the hood, so that the light fell full on his honest good-humoured face, and broad-shouldered frame. The cart went bumping and jolting over the uneven down track, now threading its way between patches of firs, now rounding a copse of stunted trees. At last a few twinkling lights came in view, shining fitfully from a not far distant hollow. “That’s our place,” said Sally, pointing with her whip. “You’re safe now, then,” returned Sol. “They’d hear ye if ye was to holler. Good night.” And with that he turned, and disappeared into the dusk, before she had time to thank him. On the following day, at the same time, Tranter Sally jogged past Hedger Sol, and Sol looked up with a friendly word, and Sally smiled down rather shyly. When dusk came and the van was jogging home again, a tall, dark figure suddenly loomed beside it. “I be a-goin’ to keep ye company along the lwonely bit,” remarked Sol. “’Tis too much trouble, I’m sure,” returned Sally, but she made no further protest.