"Ah," said Brother William, seeing the direction of his visitor's eyes, "I haven't got many books. That's the owd Bible. Got mine and Fanny's birthdays in. That's mother's owd hymn-book; and here's a book here, if you like. If Fanny would lay that up by heart, 'stead o' reading them penny gimcracks, she'd be a-doing herself some good." As he spoke, he took up a well-used old book in a brown cover, which opened easily in his hand. "That's Bowcroft's _Farmer's Compendium_, that is. I'll lend it to you, if you like. Stodge-full of receipts for cattle-drinks and sheep-dressings; and there's a gardener's calendar in it too. I wouldn't take fi' pound for that book, Martha. There ain't many like it, even up at Sir James Scarlett's, I'll be bound. That's litrichur, that is." Fanny did not enter with them. She preferred to have a good look at the garden, she said; and she lingered there for some time, her "good look at the garden" taking in a great many protracted looks up and down the lane, each of which was followed by a disappointed frown and a sigh. "Won't you take off your bonnet and jacket, Martha Betts?" said Brother William. "You can go up to Fanny's old bedroom, or you can hang 'em up behind the door on the Peg." Martha thought she would hang them up on the peg that was behind the door; and Brother William looked stolidly on, but in an admiring way, as he saw the quick deft manner in which his visitor divested herself of these outdoor articles of garb, made her hair smooth with a touch, and then brought out an apron from her pocket, unrolled it, and from within, neatly folded so that it should not crease, one of those natty little scraps of lace that are pinned upon the top of the head and called by courtesy a cap. "Hah!" said Brother William, as the cap was adjusted and the apron fastened on; "the kettle is byling, but we may as well look round before you make the tea." "Thank you," said Martha calmly. "This is the washus," said Brother William, opening a door to display a particularly clean whitewashed place, with red--brick floor. There was a copper in one corner; at one side, a great old-fashioned open fireplace with clumsy iron dogs, and within this fireplace, in what should have been the chimney corner, an iron door, nearly breast high. "That's the brick oven," said Brother William, noticing the bent of his visitor's eyes. "We burn fuzz in it mostly; but any wood does. Them hooks is when we kill a pig. The water in that there pump over the sink's soft: there's a big tank outside. That other pump you see through the window's the drinking-water. It never gets dry. Nice convenient washus; isn't it?" "Very," said Martha quietly; "only there ought to be a board put down front of the sink, for a body to stand on." "There is one outside. Mrs Badley must ha' left it there when she cleaned up," cried Brother William eagerly; and Martha said "Oh!"