'Art tha hankerin after a trade, lad?' he said hastily, nay, harshly. David looked at his uncle astonished. A hundred thoughts flew through the boy's mind. Then he raised his head and caught sight of the great peak of Kinder Low in the distance, beyond the green swells of meadowland,--the heathery slopes running up into its rocky breast,--the black patch on the brown, to the left, which marked the site of the smithy. 'No,' he said decidedly. 'No; I can't say as I am. I like t' farmin well enough.' And then, boy-like, hating to be talked to about himself, he shook himself free of his uncle and walked away. Reuben fell to his pipe again with a beaming countenance. 'Louie, my gell,' he said. 'Yes,' said the child, not moving. 'Coom yo heer, Louie.' She unwillingly got down and came up to him. Reuben put down his pipe, and fumbled in his waistcoat pocket. Out of it, with difficulty, he produced a sixpence. 'Art tha partial to goodies, Louie?' he said, dropping his voice almost to a whisper, and holding up the coin before her. Louie nodded, her eyes glistening at the magnitude of the coin. Uncle Reuben might be counted on for a certain number of pennies during the year, but silver was unheard of. 'Tak it then, child, an welcome. If yo have a sweet tooth--an it's t' way wi moast gells--I conno see as it can be onythin else but Providence as gave it yo. So get yorsel soom bull's-eyes, Louie, an--an'--he looked a little conscious as he slipped the coin into her eager hand--'doan't let on ti your aunt! She'd think mebbe I wor spoilin your teeth, or summat,--an, Louie--' Was Uncle Reuben gone mad? For the first time in her life, as it seemed to Louie, he was looking at what she had on, nay, was even taking up her dress between his finger and thumb. 'Is thissen your Sunday frock, chilt?' 'Yes,' said the girl, flushing scarlet, 'bean't it a dishclout?' And she stood looking down at it with passionate scorn. It was a worn and patched garment of brown alpaca, made out of an ancient gown of Hannah's. 'Wal, I'm naw judge i' these matters,' said Reuben, dubiously, drawing out his spectacles. 'It's got naw holes 'at I can see, but it's not varra smart, perhaps. Satan's varra active wi gells on this pint o' dress--yo mun tak noatice o' that, Louie--but--listen heer--' And he drew her nearer to him by her skirt, looking cautiously up and down the lane and across to the farm. 'If I get a good price for t' wool this year--an theer's a new merchant coomin round, yan moor o' t' buyin soart nor owd Croker, soa they say, I'st save yo five shillin for a frock, chilt. Yo can goo an buy it, an I'st mak it straight wi yor aunt. But I mun get a good price, yo know, or your aunt ull be fearfu' bad to manage.' And he gazed up at her as though appealing to her common sense in the matter, and to her understanding of both his and her situation. Louie's cheeks were red, her eyes did not meet his. They looked away, down towards Clough End.