convinced, would do to him if the opportunity ever arose, he would not have done it to bring in Patty’s name and make her talked about. No! no! He said this to himself as he stood at the door and watched them with his mouth open and watering, and his heart sore. Poor Gervase; there was something in it, even if not so much as he thought. But this evening, by a happy chance, Roger was not there. Gervase found Patty standing alone, wholly indifferent to the two or three vague figures which were dimly visible on the bench beneath the lighted window of the parlour. It was such a chance for Gervase as had never happened before. He whistled softly, but Patty took no notice; he called her by her name in a whisper, but she never turned her head. Was she regretting the other man, the fellow who had nothing to offer her but a cottage, and who was far too busy with his cricket matches and things ever to earn much money, or even to stay at home with his wife? Gervase ventured upon a great step. He came up behind her and seized Patty’s hand, which was akimbo, firmly placed upon her side. “Who’s that?” she cried, throwing off the touch; “and what are you wanting here?” “You know well enough who it is--it’s Gervase come to have a word----” “Oh!” said Patty, disdainfully, “it’s the young gentleman from the Manor as has no right to be here.” “Yes, it is me,” said Gervase, not quick enough to take up the scorn in her speech. “Come, Patty, let’s take a little turn round the Thorns: do, now!--there’s nobody else coming to-night.” “Much I care for any one coming! I can take my walk alone, thank you, Mr. Gervase, and you had better go home. I can’t abide to see you spending your time here morning and night.” “Why shouldn’t I come here, Patty? It is the nicest place in all the world to me.” “But it oughtn’t to be,” cried Patty; “your place is in Greyshott Manor, and this is only a little inn upon the edge of the downs. What pleasure can you find in this parlour, with all their pipes going, and the smoke curling about your head, and the silly talk about Blacksmith John at the smithy, and how he shod Farmer George’s mare?” “Well, if I don’t object to the talk; and what reason have you against it? It’s always good for trade.” “It’s not even good for trade,” said the girl. “Do you think they like you to be here, these men? No; not even father don’t, though it’s to his profit, as you say. It stops the talk: for there’s things they wouldn’t say before you: and it makes them think and ask questions. It ain’t pleasant for me when they takes to ask each other, ‘What’s the young squire after for ever down here?’” “Well, you can tell them,” said Gervase, with his foolish laugh; “I make no secret of it. Patty’s what I’m after, and she knows----”