David laughed out. 'And who was it gave Jim Wigson a box on the ears last fifth of November, in the lane just by the Dye-works, eh, Miss Louie?--and danced with young Redway at the Upper Mill dance, New Year's Day?--and had words with Mr. James at the office about her last "cut," a fortnight ago--eh, Louie?' 'What _ever_ do you mean?' she said, half crossly, her colour rising. 'You've been spying on me.' She hated to be mystified. It made her feel herself in some one else's power; and the wild creature in her blood grew restive. 'Why, I've known all about you these four years!' the lad began, with dancing eyes. Then suddenly his voice changed, and dropped: 'I say, look at Uncle Reuben!' For Reuben sat bent forward, his light blurred eyes looking out straight before him, with a singular yet blind intentness, as though, while seeing nothing round about him, they passed beyond the walls of the little room to some vision of their own. 'I don't know whatever he came for,' began Louie, as they both examined him. 'Uncle Reuben,' said David, going up to him and touching him on the shoulder, 'you look tired. You'll be wanting some dinner. I'll just send my man, John Dalby, round the corner for something.' And he made a step towards the door, but Reuben raised his hand. 'Noa, noa, Davy! Shut that door, wiltha?' David wondered, and shut it. Then Reuben gave a long sigh, and put his hand deep into his coat pocket, with the quavering, uncertain movement characteristic of him. 'Davy, my lad, a've got summat to say to tha.' And with many hitches, while the others watched him in astonishment, he pulled out of his pocket a canvas bag and put it down on an oak stool in front of him. Then he undid the string of it with his large awkward fingers, and pushed the stool across to David. 'Theer's sixty pund theer, Davy--sixty pund! Yo can keawnt it--it's aw reet. A've saved it for yo, this four year--four year coom lasst Michaelmas Day. Hannah nor nobory knew owt abeawt it. But it's yourn--it's yor share, being t' half o' Mr. Gurney's money. Louie's share--that wor different; we had a reet to that, she bein a growin girl, and doin nowt mich for her vittles. Fro the time when yo should ha had it--whether for wages or for 'prenticin--an yo _could_ na ha it, because Hannah had set hersen agen it,--a saved it for tha, owt o' t' summer cattle moastly, without tellin nobory, so as not to mak words.' David, bewildered, had taken the bag into his hand. Louie's eyes were almost out of her head with curiosity and amazement. '_Mr. Gurney's money!_' What did he mean? It was all double-Dutch to them. David, with an effort, controlled himself, being now a man and a householder. He stood with his back against the shop door, his gaze fixed on Reuben. 'Now, Uncle Reuben, I don't understand a bit of what you've been saying, and Louie don't either. Who's Mr. Gurney? and what's his money?'