"As to that," declared Margaret, "Billy ban’t particular ugly. He’ve got a long, sharp nose, I grant you--" "Yes," interrupted David, "and he’ve been told to keep that nose away from the Warren House; and the mischief is he won’t obey father’s commands. Two nights agone the moon was full, and Rhoda went out for to breathe the air and see if there was a fox down by the fowl-house. And a fox there was--long nose and all, and his name was Billy Screech." He looked at his sister and she continued the narrative. "I hate spying," she said, "and God, He knows I didn’t go afield to seek that man, or any other man. And I thought Dorcas was to bed, for she’d gone off after supper with a faceache. But travelling quick and silent, as my way is, over the close surf of the warrens, I came round a rock right on top of ’em. And--" Rhoda grew hot at the unpleasant recollection and broke off. "And he was sitting on a stone, and she was sitting on his lap," said David, who spared his sister the details. "Little red-headed fool! I wish I’d found ’em, for I’d have thrashed the man to jelly afore her eyes, and cured her that way." "What did you do, Rhoda?" asked Margaret. "I made her come in. As her elder sister I had the right. She wasn’t in the least ashamed of herself seemingly. I boxed her ears, when the man had gone, and she forgot herself and tried to bite my hand." "She’s like a rat in a trap over this business," said David. "Never would you have guessed or dreamed ’twas in her to show her teeth so." "All laughter and silly jokes till this miserable man came after her," continued his sister. "And now--I blush for her. ’Tis very horrid and shameful to think that any girl can demean herself so." David here left the room and Madge continued to Rhoda. "She feels ’tis her great chance for a home of her own, I expect. Us all gets that hope sometimes, so why not Dorcas?" But the other did not sympathise with this theory. "Us don’t all feel it," she declared. "A many women never do. And if all of us was to marry, the work of the world would stand still. There’s a great deal for free women to do that nobody else can do so well as them; and it seems to me that the first thing a female does, after she’s brought childer into the world, be to look about and try to find an unmarried woman to help her do her work. There’s scores of spinsters spending their lives messing about with their sisters’ babbies." "Babbies ban’t everything, I grant that," said Margaret; but she said it doubtfully. In her heart children certainly took the first place. Indeed, Madge felt a little guilty of being untrue to herself in the last sentiment. Therefore she modified it. "All the same, they mean a lot to most women, and I long for ’em cruel and ban’t ashamed to say it."