But the girl was not one to take advice. "I shall only be young once," she said, "and I shall travel me own road. You talk about me, didn’t you have chaps after you? You haven’t got the first man you went with, have you?" She had carried the war into the enemy’s country. From sage maturity Mrs. Tom fell back a score of years, fell back to the days when she too must make her choice. "Did you now, mammy?" insisted the girl. "My dear," Mrs. Tom was groping for her mislaid dignity, "your father was my first sweetheart!" "Well, then," youth had caught a word here and a glance there, enough lime for her mortar, "well, then, he wasn’t always your sweetheart." "I was to Plymouth in service and he was ’ere. We didn’t care for letter-writin’." "Who was that chap in Plymouth, then?" Mrs. Tom gave way. "Oh, a sailor, like they all are. ’E’ve done very well for ’isself. ’E’s a captain now." "Mammy!" Out of two hints Richbell had evolved a fact. "’Twasn’t that man that left the impudent message for daddy last summer, was it?" "Take and ’old yer tongue, do!" But recollection had lighted Mrs. Tom’s eyes with laughter. "Well, was it?" "Iss. ’E said, ’Is ole Tom livin’ yet? I’m waitin’ for ’e to die. I want ’is shoes.’" "He isn’t married yet?" "’E say ’e’s waitin’ for me." "Why didn’t you have him?" "Because I liked your father best." Remembering the lesson she had been trying to inculcate, she added more soberly, "’E ’ad the promise of a good farm." "That had nothing to do with it," said youth shrewdly. "You liked him." "Well, I did." And she continued happily, "I ’eard ’e was goin’ wi’ Nina Old and I came ’ome to see." "And was he?" "I run right against them up to Four Turnin’s and I gived ’im a look." "I know," laughed Richbell delightedly. "I know how you looked." "’An ’e lifted ’is ’at to me." She paused meditatively. "’Good evening,’ he says and come straight over to me." "Left her?" "There and then." "Iss, mammy?" "We was married in a month from that day; but come, my dear, ’tis blowin’ up for a storm and we better go in now. You got to go down to Wastralls early to-morrow mornin’." They glanced along the road and, from Hember standing boldly out from the hillside, it was as if Wastralls lay in a hollow. "Why," said Richbell, with suddenly awakened interest, "look, mammy, some one’s still up down there. There’s a light in the kitchen window." "’Tis late, too." The girl shivered and drew nearer to her mother. "I expect it’s Uncle Leadville cleaning that old gun of his. I can’t abide to see him rubbing away at it. That’s all he do, all day long." "Poor old sawl, that’s all ’e ’av got to do." "Mammy," her voice had lost its gaiety and self-confidence. She was a young creature, obscurely frightened. "I wish I wasn’t going down there." Mrs. Tom spoke sharply. "Why? ’Av Gray been talkin’ to yer?" "No, Gray’s close as anything, but what is it?"