"Read no more," he said, "till your spirit is better attuned to such profitable instruction. Lay it by till to-morrow," he went on, in less harsh tones; "mayhap when you have slept on what you have read, and digested it--" "I doubt I shall not do that," despairingly answered Ruth, "for the woodcuts alone would serve to give bolder hearts than mine a nightmare." [Sidenote: A soft place in his heart.] "And yet," went on Rumbold, softening still more at the notion that his favourite reading had impressed Ruth more strongly than he had at first assumed, "I do not think yours is lacking in courage. Your father's daughter would dare much in a righteous cause were she called upon to do it. Eh, Ruth?" She did not answer; but sat gazing dreamily at the fire as it reduced the poor chap-book to a few filmy shreds. "But now, little one," went on the maltster, "to your room. Good-night!" and he bent and kissed her forehead, "Nay, father!" she rejoined, looking up in surprise; "not good-night yet awhile. 'Tis hours too early." "I like not thy trick of exaggerating," rebukefully said he. "One hour, and barely, for the clock has already struck seven--it may be sooner--" "Yes, indeed," briskly interrupted she, "and I am not for going to sleep at sunset, with the little chits of sparrows--" [Sidenote: Cross-questioning.] "And magpies! You grow pert, mistress. Come!" sternly added Rumbold, "I'll have no more of the May-day wantonness we wot of. Do as I bid you." "But, father--" "Do you hear me?" thundered the maltster. "I desire to be alone. That is--I need not your company." "'Twill be so lonesome for you," said Ruth; "I think it would have cheered you in this twilight time if--" "I need it not, I tell you," quickly interrupted Rumbold. "I expect--visitors," and he coughed huskily. "Visitors!" "Ay; that is to say," stammered Rumbold, "it--it is possible." "Visitors! and nothing prepared for them to eat!" cried the little housemistress aghast. "They are not of the sort who set store by rich meats and costly wine-bibbing. They come--to confer with me, on--on important questions." "Is it the price of grain, father? I heard Parson Alsides saying to Master Lockit only this very morning that it was at a most ruinous price--seventy shillings a quarter, he said; and that if the farmers and the employers--such as you, father, dear, and Lawrence Lee, I suppose, would but put their heads together to devise how it could be cheapened for the poor, 'twould be, he said, a right blessed day's work, and a vast deal better than the hatching of all sorts of plots, and--" "Eh! eh! eh! Parson Alsides is a chattering old sycophant, who is always prating for the pensions he gets out of the king's own privy purse. Though, mind you, child, I don't say I would not spare the matter consideration when more serious concerns allow me leisure."