At length, a loud halloo announced the approach of old Grobstock. Skelpie instantly intimated his intention of decamping, but the vile maid desired him to clamber up the oak, and hide amongst its branches, until her daddy went to bed. Here was a terrific request!--“I won't go into the hollow,” quoth he; “'cause the zuzpicious ould jakes do always pry into there, avore a' do goa to bed.” I took the cuff of my coat between my teeth, and resolutely prepared for the worst;--but Skelpie ascended the other side of the tree. He had scarcely broken off the prolonged salute of the kissing Ruth, when old Roger Grobstock, drunk, and growling, staggered up to the door. “Eh! what, lassie--wench! out and abroad at this time of night!” cried he, as Ruth tripped up towards him. “Ahey! what, vlaunting and trapesing about the whoam-stead wi' some vellow, I'll warrant! Odd! I'll verret un out; only bide a bit, I'll be about un. I be downcast vor want of a frolic to-night; so, ecod! lass, I'll duck the lad avore I goes to bed, just vor a bit of a joke like,--all in good vellowship,--but, icod! I'll duck un, if he's a friend; and if he is a stranger,--dost hear, wench?--I'll drash un wi' the flail, just like a whate-sheaf.” Every word of his speech was equal to a blow: I struggled to get free with all my might; I had succeeded so far as to raise myself upright, when the miller, who had entered the house at the conclusion of his threat, re-appeared at the door with a flaming brand from the hearth in one hand, and a tremendous dung-fork in the other. He staggered directly close up to the tree; but the sight of my out-jutting stomach, and alarmed visage, made him retreat a few paces. He thrust out the burning stick so near my face, that it scorched my cheek; and after surveying my disconsolate and rueful deportment for a minute or more, he grounded his weapon, and accosted me in these words: “Why, thee bee'st a purty vellur, beesen't?--And where did'st come vrom--and who bee'st? Art thee a thief, or--but, noa, it can't be,--thee bee'st never come to court our Ruth, bee'st?--speak, twoad, or I'll vork tha!” There was Ruth, looking over her father's shoulder, evidently alarmed at my appearance; Skelpie's heels were dangling over my head; the pronged fork was close to my waistcoat; I stared in the face of the old man, unable to utter a word, but sweating like a baited bull, and plainly expressing my fears by my woebegone and pallid countenance. I expected some dire punishment for my silence; but old Grobstock, after surveying me for a minute, to my great surprise, burst into a loud laugh, seized my trembling hand, and, with one vigorous effort, pulled me out of my imprisonment. After dragging me, helpless as I was, into the house, and placing me in a chair by the fire-side, he thrust a mug of cider and brandy into my hand, chuckling out, “Why, zooks! chap, how vrighted thee looks!--drink!” Here was a change!