“Well, I shall take your advice, Mr. Pearson. I’ll be happy in my own way. It’s not yours, and never will be. But that don’t matter, seeing we’ve nothing on earth to do with each other, and are in quite different ranks of life. I wish you good-night, and I hope the cricketing business will be a good one and pay, or else I might say, ‘Mind, there’s the winter coming on'--if a lady could take upon her to give advice to a sporting man.” “Patty,” he cried, calling after her, “don’t part with a fellow like this; I didn’t mean to offend you--far from it. I only thought I’d warn you what folks said.” “Folks is fools for the most part,” cried Patty fiercely, using a much-cited sentiment, which she had never heard of, by the light of nature, “and I don’t want to hear what they say. Mr. Pearson, I wish you good-night.” “There! I’ve been and put my foot in it--I knew I should,” Roger said. He stood, the image of despondency, in the middle of the moor, his white figure standing out against the western light as Patty turned at a sharp angle to go home. She could see him with the corner of her eye without looking at him. He stood there silent for a moment, and then dashed his fist into the air with a profane exclamation. “That’s not what I meant at all,” he said, and lifted his cricket-bag and sped away. What was it that went out of the evening with him, when Patty, venturing to glance round, saw the landscape empty of the man who had offended her so deeply, who had ventured to blame her--her a lady so far above him--Mrs. Piercey of Greyshott, while he was only a cricketer, an idle fellow about the country, no good, as even the village people said? But yet a dreariness settled down upon the world; night came on and that loneliness which seemed now Patty’s fate. Well, she said to herself, what did she care? She had her fine estate, her name that was as good as the best, her grand house, as much money to spend as she chose, and nobody to dictate to her what she should do--no, nobody to dictate to her--nobody even to advise, to say, “That’s right, Patty!” Her Aunt Patience did that, it was true, but then Aunt Patience’s approval, save in the very extremity of having nobody else, did not count for much. She hurried in; but it was lonely, lonelier even than the moor--nobody to speak to, nobody to break the long row of chairs and sofas which were there with the intention of accommodating half the county, but now had nobody to sit down upon them but Patty’s self, moving from one to another with a futile feeling of breaking the solitude. But nothing was to be had to break that solitude except Aunt Patience. Mrs. Piercey of Greyshott rang the bell, and ordered the carriage to be sent at once to the village to fetch Miss Hewitt immediately, without a minute’s delay! That she could do--send out her carriage, and her horses, and her secretly-swearing servants for any caprice at any moment. For Miss