"Whatever you do, don’t ’ee forget yer uncle’s pipe." No man shall instruct deaf ears or open the eyes of the blind. Already Sabina’s optimism was reasserting itself. She had exaggerated the import of her husband’s look. Leadville, poor chap, had been disappointed and had shown it. No need for her to make ’the worst of a bad bargain.’ Christmas is a time of good-will and Christmas was coming. She had noticed he was in need of a new pipe and who knew whether such an offering might not prove a milestone on the difficult road to reconciliation? "No, I won’t forget," said Gray, who saw the commission as yet another instance of nobility exercised towards the entirely undeserving. She kissed her aunt warmly. "You are a darlin’," she said. "I feel awful to leave you to do all this work," she glanced from the dough to the bread-tins, "I can’t bear going." "Well, my dear," Sabina felt the pleasantness of this young and partisan affection, "’tis only for a little while. Richbell will do so well as she can." "Richbell’ll never think to make your cocoa of a night or to get your hot-bottle and make you comfortable." "Please God, I’ll ’av you back again soon. Now you go on and be ’appy and don’t you think about me. I shall be all right. There—" she glanced through the diamond panes of the window, "the mare’s being tackled up, make haste." A slight frost had hardened the mud of the yard and above St. Cadic Mill the December sun had risen into a sky of little far-off clouds. Between the shafts of the wagon stood Lady, the young mare, glad to exchange the warm dark stable for the adventure of the public road. Jim Rosevear, in well-brushed clothes and with a tie that matched the blue of his eyes, was fastening the last buckle as Gray came out, with a basket of eggs and butter in one hand and her bag in the other. A larger basket, containing poultry, was already in place and, beside it, lay a piece of broken mechanism which was to be left at the smithy. As the girlish figure stepped out of the dark house Leadville, who, with frowning brow, had been watching the preparations, came forward. Gray had a momentary qualm; but saw with relief that he had not made any change in his dress. In old clothes and without a collar even Leadville, though he set many conventions at defiance, would not think of going to Stowe. "Hullo!" said he, "what be yer gwine do wi’ that bag?" "I’m going to stay home to-night." "’Ome? This is yer ’ome ’ere." "Well, I’m going to stay to mammy’s for a change," she spoke lightly, willing to placate him and hasten her escape. "I think you ought to ’av ask me if you can stay ’ome or no." He had stepped between her and the wagon; and his eyes had the smouldering light which she had learnt to dread. With her heart fluttering, she controlled her voice to a pleasant, "Well, what is there to hinder me?" Her docility appeased him. After all she was only going to the butter market.