On the evening of that eventful day--a day of comings and goings about the ruined colliery--Farnish stayed later than usual at the "Coach-and-Four." There had never been so much to talk about in the whole history of Savilestowe as there was that evening, and he, as father of Jeckie Farnish, was a person of consequence in the debate which was carried on in the bar-parlour to the latest hours allowed by the licensing laws. But he went home at last, to find the cottage in darkness; there was not even the gleam of the last ashes of the usual wood fire to welcome him when he opened the door which admitted to the living-room. "I misdoubt yon poor lass o' mine is still hangin' about them shafts!" he muttered, as he began to feel around him in the darkness. "It's nat'ral on her part, an' all, but it'll do no good, no good!" Then he struck a match, drawn from a box which was always handy at the corner of the mantelpiece, and as he turned to where the lamp was kept, saw Jeckie. She sat in an easy chair at the other side of the hearth, but in no lounging attitude, such as is commonly affected by folk who sit in easy chairs. Instead, she was bolt upright and rigid, and for a moment Farnish wondered if she had been stricken with paralysis, or was dead. But a sudden flash of her keen eyes showed him that she was alive enough. "Why, Jecholiah, mi lass!" he exclaimed, as he lighted the lamp. "What's this here? Sittin' there i' t'darkness?--no light, no fire! Ye mo'nt tek on so, Jecholiah--it's o' no use, and bad for a body." "Who said aught about takin' on?" answered Jeckie, with a sombre stare at him. "I was thinkin'--can't one think in t'dark as well as in t'light?" "I dare say they can, mi lass," assented Farnish. "I done it misen, more nor once, and a varry bad thing it is--what ye happen to think i' t'dark's allus magnified, as it weer. Let me get you a drop o' summat, now?--and then go to yer bed and try for a bit o' sleep--ye need it." "You can get something for yourself," answered Jeckie. "I want naught!" Farnish had no objection to this invitation. He got out the bottle of gin, mixed himself a tumbler to his liking, and sitting down in his own chair, wagged his head over the glass.