an. But she differed from the rest in two
or three respects. The others seemed somewhat stunted in growth; she was
tall enough to be imposing. She was as roughly clad as the poorest of
them, but she wore her uncouth garb differently. The man's jacket of
fustian, open at the neck, bared a handsome sunbrowned throat. The man's
hat shaded a face with dark eyes that had a sort of animal beauty, and a
well-molded chin. It was at this girl that all the rough jokes seemed to
be directed.

"I'll tell thee, Joan," said one woman, "we'st ha' thee sweetheartin'
wi' him afore th' month's out."

"Aye," laughed her fellows, "so we shall. Tha'st ha' to turn soft
after aw. Tha conna stond out again' th' Lunnon chap. We'st ha' thee
sweetheartin', Joan, i' th' face o' aw tha'st said."

Joan Lowrie faced them defiantly:

"Tha'st noan ha' me sweetheartin' wi' siccan a foo'," she said, "I amna
ower fond o' men folk at no time. I've had my fill on 'em; and I'm noan
loike to tak' up wi' such loike as this un. An' he's no an a Lunnoner
neither. He's on'y fro' th' South. An th' South is na Lunnon."

"He's getten' Lunnon ways tho'," put in another. "Choppin' his words up
an' mincin' 'em sma'. He's noan Lancashire, ony gowk could tell."

"I dunnot see as he minces so," said Joan roughly. "He dunnot speak our
loike, but he's well enow i' his way."

A boisterous peal of laughter interrupted her.

"I thowt tha' ca'ed him a foo' a minute sin'," cried two or three voices
at once. "Eh, Joan, lass, tha'st goin' t' change thy moind, I see."

The girl's eyes flashed.

"Theer's others I could ca' foo's," she said; "I need na go far to
foind foo's. Foo' huntin's th' best sport out, an' th' safest. Leave th'
engineer alone an' leave me alone too. It 'll be th' best fur yo'."

She turned round and strode out of the group.

Another burst of derisive laughter followed her, but she took no notice
of it She took no notice of anything--not even of the two men who at
that very moment passed and turned to look at her as she went by.

"A fine creature!" said one of them.

"A fine creature!" echoed the other. "Yes, and you see that is precisely
it, Derrick. 'A fine creature'--and nothing else."

They were the young engineer and his friend the Reverend Paul Grace,
curate of the parish. There were never two men more unlike, physically
and mentally, and yet it would have been a hard task to find two natures
more harmonious and sympathetic. Still most peo