“Mak’ the best use o’ yo’r legs, mon,” he exclaimed. “Yo’ have but ten minutes to do the job. She’ll be gettin’ the bolt ready ’iled.” Luke deemed it best to feign unconsciousness of the other’s meaning, and went slouching out of the house with as much dignity as was compatible with a devil-may-care aspect. He whistled loudly as he sauntered down the lane, but once he had fairly left the inn and its occupants behind, he took to his heels and ran. As he approached Jinny’s cottage, he observed with alarm that there was no light in the kitchen windows, though, as he sent the little gate swinging on its hinges, a faint ray shot through the keyhole of the door. He lifted the latch but the door did not yield. Then he struck the upper panel heavily with his clenched fist. “Yo’d best open this door, missus,” he shouted out, in a voice thick with anger, “else I’d think nothin’ at all o’ breakin’ it down.” There was a grinding of bolts within, and the door was flung open, revealing Miss Whiteside, flat candlestick in hand. “Now look yo’ here, missus,” cried Luke, propping the door open with his broad shoulder, “a bargain’s a bargain! Half-past ten was the time yo’ named an’ it wants three minutes to that now.” “It does nought o’ the kind,” responded Jinny indignantly. “Cuckoo’s gone five minutes sin’.” “Cuckoo’s wrong then,” retorted Luke roughly, and he dangled his watch in the flickering light in order to confute her. Just as Jinny was shrilly asserting her belief in the infallibility of her cuckoo, the church clock struck the half-hour. “Theer! What do yo’ mak’ o’ thot?” cried Luke, restoring his watch to his fob, and stepping past her; “church clock can’t be wrong, can it?” Jinny, unexpectedly confounded, fell to re-bolting the door again without speaking, and her lodger, triumphant in the consciousness of having had the last word, marched up to bed. Luke was awake early on the following morning, yet, when he came downstairs to draw up a bucketful of water from the well, he found that his hostess must have been astir long before him. The kitchen had been scrubbed and sanded, a bright fire burnt on the hearth, and a most savoury smell of coffee and bacon greeted his nostrils. Moreover, Miss Whiteside, kneeling before the fire, was toasting a large round of bread. “Yon smells gradely,” said Luke, pausing in the doorway. Jinny glanced over her shoulder. “It’s yo’,” she remarked. “I got yo’r breakfast in good time, knowing yo’ have to be on duty o’ mornin’s.” “Coom,” said Kershaw with a gleeful swing of the bucket, “that’s reet. I call that proper thoughtful. I reckoned I’d happen have to tak’ a bite along wi’ me, seein’ it’s so early.”