"Oh, well," said the vicar, "I believe that tradition would have died out long ago but for old Peggy Outhwaite. She takes a pride in it. `T' owd Guy' is used as a sort of bogie to frighten the children; I've heard a mother say, `T' owd Guy'll get ye.' It's a sort of proverb." Guy made no answer; but he reflected that Mr Clifton was a South-country stranger, to whom the natives did not confide their inmost beliefs, and, being himself a North-country man, and no stranger, he enjoyed this opinion in silence. He started a little when he turned and saw the subject of the conversation standing close by him, touching his cap, and smiling at him, a slow, foolish smile. "So you're come to look after the church?" said Guy. "When t' church is fettled oop, me and sexton'll have new clothes," he said, in a cracked but confidential whisper. "That'll be fine," said Guy, good-naturedly. Jem grinned, nodded, and shambled off again; but, from that day forward, he attached himself to Guy with curious persistency, watching for his coming, starting up unexpectedly to hold the pony, made happy by a word or smile. He followed Guy as closely, and more humbly than Rawdie. So it came to pass that, on the morning after her arrival with her aunt at the Hall, Florella, having found her way into part of the wood that covered Flete Edge, heard a sharp bark, and beheld Rawdie come scurrying over last year's leaves and this year's primroses, till a shrill whistle stopped him short. Florella stood still also, as, coming across a clearing in the underwood, she saw Guy riding his little rough pony, and behind him, like a shadow, the grotesque figure of Jem Outhwaite. They were a strange and unusual pair, with the grotesque little dog for a herald. Guy sprang off the pony, and came forward with an eager greeting. "We knew you were coming yesterday," he said. "Clifton and I meant to call this afternoon. I am so glad I am still here. Oh yes," as she murmured an inquiry and a greeting, "I am quite strong now." After a few more sentences, he paused and said, with a smile, and a little shyness, "I want to show you something." He led her a few steps aside, along a little foot-track towards a bank, covered all over with the long trails and open flowers of the smaller periwinkle. "There!" he said. "I have been watching these every day, to see if they would be ready for you. The spring blue-bells won't be here for a long time; but these--they are blue--they are like stars--won't they make a picture?" "They are just what I wanted to see," she said. "I have hardly ever been in the country in spring." "Let me get you some to take home and learn them. When I look at flowers, I almost think of how you will see them, and then I know how pretty they are." He put the long sprays into her hand, and they looked into one another's eyes, and felt nothing but the spring, the flowers, and each other's presence.