"Sakes alive! It's a rough 'un, good folk," said the master of Fairbanks, "Good night to yo' Betty, an' to yo', Mr. Black. I was feart aw should miss yo'. Give me a stiff 'un o' rum hot wi' sugar an' a splash o' lemon; an' yo' Aleck, will't ha' a pint o' mulled?" Which redolent compound Mrs. Schofield was now pouring into a capacious pitcher. "Tha knows better, mester," was Aleck's blunt reply. "A quart o' ale, missis, an' nooan too much yead on it--no fal-lals for me, mi stummack's too wake." This was an unusually long speech for Aleck, and he sank exhausted on a settle that ran beneath a long narrow window, whilst the dog prone upon the hearth, his jaws resting on his fore paws, feigned sleep, but blinked at times from beneath twitching eyebrows at the rugged visage of the tanned, weather-beaten herdsman. "An' yo' stabled th' mare aw nivver heerd th' stable door oppen?" queried Mrs Schofield. "Nay, I left Bess at th' _Floating Lights_. She cast a shoe coming over th' Top. So we'n walked daan an welly up to mi chin aw've bin more nor once--it's th' heaviest fall aw mind on." "But you're late Fairbanks," said Mr Black. "I looked for you this hour and more. Have you had a good market?" "Aye nowt to grumble at, an' we Aleck? Sold forty head o' beast an' bought thirty as fine cattle as ever yo' clapped e'en on, eh, Aleck? An' we're nooan strapped yet," he laughed, as he drew a leather pouch from an inner pocket and cast it jingling on to the table. "Here Betty, put that i'th cupboard." "Have yo' counted it?" asked Mrs. Schofield, handling the greasy bag gingerly. "Count be danged," said Mr. Redfearn, "saving your presence, schoolmaster. Gi' me another jorum. Sup up, Aleck." Aleck supped up and silently handed his pewter to Mrs Schofield. "But it wasn't the market that kept me so late," went on Mr Redfearn. "There were a meeting o' th' free holders o' th' district to consider the new Reform Bill. We met i' th' big room at th' _George_, but it all came to nowt; though Harry Brougham talked and talked fit to talk a hen an' chickens to death. Gosh! Our Mary's a good 'un, but she couldn't hold a can'le to Brougham." "Aye, did you hear Mr. Brougham?" asked Mr Black, with interest. "What manner of man is he?" "Why nowt much to look at--aw could blow him away like thistle down; more like a monkey up a stick nor owt 'at I can think on. But talk! You should hear him! But he didn't talk my vote out o' me for all that. King and Church for me, say I. Th' owd ways were good enough for my father an' my father's father an' aw reckon they'll do for me." "But he's a marvellous man," said Mr. Black. "Who but he could leave the Assizes at York, travel, there and back, over two hundred miles after the rising of the Court, address half-a-dozen meetings and be back next day taking his briefs--I think they call them--as fresh as new paint." "Aye, but that wern't Brougham," said Redfearn. "It wer' Owdham browies." "Eh?" queried the schoolmaster.