The Italian at once laid her hands upon the block of wood and struggled to raise it; but Gladys had no difficulty in keeping the bar immoveable. “What are you doing?” cried the younger girl indignantly. “Take your arm away!” “She must tell us first who put her where she is,” reiterated Miss Romer. “I won’t have her let out ’till she tells us that!” Phyllis looked piteously from one to the other. Then she grew desperate. “It was Luke Andersen,” she whispered. “What!” cried Gladys. “Luke? Then he’s been out walking with you? Has he? Has he? Has he?” She repeated these words with such concentrated fury that Phyllis began to cry. But the shock of this information gave Lacrima her chance. Using all her strength she lifted the heavy bar and released the prisoner. Phyllis staggered to her feet and picked up her bundle. Lacrima handed the girl her hat and helped her to brush the dust from her clothes. “So _you_ are Luke’s latest fancy are you?” Gladys said scowling fiercely at the glove-maker. The pent-up feelings of the young woman broke forth at once. Moving a step or two away from them and glancing at a group of farm-men who were crossing the green, she gave full scope to her revenge. “I’m only Annie Bristow’s friend,” she retorted. “Annie Bristow is going to marry Luke. They are right down mad on one another.” “It’s a lie!” cried Gladys, completely forgetting herself and looking as if she could have struck the mocking villager. “A lie, eh?” returned the other. “Tisn’t for me to tell the tale to a young lady, the likes of you. But we be all guessing down in Mr. North’s factory, who ’twas that gave Luke the pretty lady-like ring wot he lent to Annie!” Gladys became livid with anger. “What ring?” she cried. “Why are you talking about a ring?” “Annie, she stuck it, for devilry, into that hole in Splash-Lane stone. She pushed it in, tight as ’twere a sham diamint. And there it do bide, the lady’s pretty ring, all glittery and shiny, at bottom of that there hole! We maids do go to see ’un glinsying and gleaming. It be the talk of the place, that ring be! Scarce one of the childer but ’as ’ad its try to hook ’un out. But ’tis no good. I guess Annie must have rammed it down with her mother’s girt skewer. ’Tis fast in that stone anyway, for all the world to see. Folks, may-be, ’ll be coming from Yeoborough, long as a few days be over, to see the lady’s ring, wot Annie threw’d away, ’afore she said ‘yes’ to her young man!” These final words were positively shouted by the enraged Phyllis, as she tripped away, swinging her bundle triumphantly. It seemed for a moment as though Gladys meditated a desperate pursuit, and the infliction of physical violence upon her enemy. But Lacrima held her fast by the hand. “For heaven’s sake, cousin,” she whispered, “let her go. Look at those men watching us!” Gladys turned; but it was not at the farm-men she looked.