chap--no such good luck."

"I don't know about that," said Dick, whipping at Smart's flank in a
fanciful way, which, as Smart knew, meant nothing in connection with
going on. "There's Pa'son Maybold, too--that's all against me."

"What about he? She's never been stuffing into thy innocent heart that
he's in hove with her? Lord, the vanity o' maidens!"

"No, no. But he called, and she looked at him in such a way, and at me
in such a way--quite different the ways were,--and as I was coming off,
there was he hanging up her birdcage."

"Well, why shouldn't the man hang up her bird-cage? Turk seize it all,
what's that got to do wi' it? Dick, that thou beest a white-lyvered chap
I don't say, but if thou beestn't as mad as a cappel-faced bull, let me
smile no more."

"O, ay."

"And what's think now, Dick?"

"I don't know."

"Here's another pretty kettle o' fish for thee. Who d'ye think's the
bitter weed in our being turned out? Did our party tell 'ee?"

"No. Why, Pa'son Maybold, I suppose."

"Shiner,--because he's in love with thy young woman, and d'want to see
her young figure sitting up at that queer instrument, and her young
fingers rum-strumming upon the keys."

A sharp ado of sweet and bitter was going on in Dick during this
communication from his father. "Shiner's a fool!--no, that's not it; I
don't believe any such thing, father. Why, Shiner would never take a
bold step like that, unless she'd been a little made up to, and had taken
it kindly. Pooh!"

"Who's to say she didn't?"

"I do."

"The more fool you."

"Why, father of me?"

"Has she ever done more to thee?"

"No."

"Then she has done as much to he--rot 'em! Now, Dick, this is how a maid
is. She'll swear she's dying for thee, and she is dying for thee, and
she will die for thee; but she'll fling a look over t'other shoulder at
another young feller, though never leaving off dying for thee just the
same."

"She's not dying for me, and so she didn't fling a look at him."

"But she may be dying for him, for she looked at thee."

"I don't know what to make of it at all," said Dick gloomily.

"All I can make of it is," the tranter said, raising his whip, arranging
his different joints and muscles, and motioning to the horse to move on,
"that if you can't read a maid's mind by her motions, nature d'seem to
say thou'st ought to be a bachelor. Clk, clk! Smiler!" And the tranter
moved on.

Dick held Smart's rein firmly, and