y man for me; I am not a model landowner, but I like
to combine charity with subservience to my own interest occasionally.
I have heard of the old fellow. Something of a demagogue, isn't he? But
that will not frighten me. I will allow him to get the better of me in
political discussion, if he will leave my pheasants alone."

"I will answer for the pheasants," said Anice, "if you will let me send
him to you."

"I will see him to-morrow morning with pleasure," said Mr. Haviland.
"And if there is anything else I can do, Miss Barholm------"

"Thank you, there is nothing else at present. Indeed, you do not know
how grateful I feel."

Before an hour had passed, Sammy Craddock heard the good news. Anice
drove back to his house and told him, without delay.

"If you will go to-morrow morning, Mr. Haviland will see you," she
ended; "and I think you will be good friends, Mr. Craddock."

"Owd Sammy" pushed his spectacles up on his forehead, and looked at her.

"An' tha went at th' business o' thy own accord an' managt it i' haaf
an hour!" he said. "Well, I'm dom'd,--axin your pardin fur takkin th'
liberty; it's a habit I've getten--but I be, an' no mistake."

He had not time to get over his grateful amazement and recover his
natural balance before she had said all she had come to say, and was
gone, leaving him with "th' owd lass" and his admiration.

"Well," said Sammy, "I mun say I nivver seed nowt loike it i' my loife.
To think o' th' little wench ha'in' so mich gumption, an' to think
o' her takkin th' matter i' hond th' minnit she struck it! Why! hoo's
getten as mich sense as a mon. Eh! but hoo's a rare un--I said it when I
seed her amongst th' lads theer, an' I say it again. An' hoo is na mich
bigger nor six penn'orth o' copper neyther. An' I warrant hoo nivver
thowt o' fillin her pocket wi' tracks by way o' comfort. Well, tha'st
noan ha' to dee i' th' Union after aw, owd lass, an' happen we con save
a bit to gi' thee a graidely funeral if tha'lt mak' up thy moind to stay
to th' top a bit longer."

CHAPTER XVIII - A Confession of Faith

The Sunday following the Curate's visit to Lowrie's cottage, just before
the opening of the morning service at St, Michael's, Joan Lowrie en'
tered, and walking up the side aisle, took her place among the free
seats. The church members turned to look at her as she passed their
pews. On her part, she seemed to see nobody and to hear nothing of the
rustlings of the genteel garmen