ith it; the
two labourers seemed to know both words and music, though I did not;
and so did Phillis: her rich voice followed her father's as he set the
tune; and the men came in with more uncertainty, but still
harmoniously. Phillis looked at me once or twice with a little surprise
at my silence; but I did not know the words. There we five stood,
bareheaded, excepting Phillis, in the tawny stubble-field, from which
all the shocks of corn had not yet been carried--a dark wood on one
side, where the woodpigeons were cooing; blue distance seen through the
ash-trees on the other. Somehow, I think that if I had known the words,
and could have sung, my throat would have been choked up by the feeling
of the unaccustomed scene.

The hymn was ended, and the men had drawn off before I could stir. I
saw the minister beginning to put on his coat, and looking at me with
friendly inspection in his gaze, before I could rouse myself.

'I dare say you railway gentlemen don't wind up the day with singing a
psalm together,' said he; 'but it is not a bad practice--not a bad
practice. We have had it a bit earlier to-day for hospitality's
sake--that's all.'

I had nothing particular to say to this, though I was thinking a great
deal. From time to time I stole a look at my companion. His coat was
black, and so was his waistcoat; neckcloth he had none, his strong full
throat being bare above the snow-white shirt. He wore drab-coloured
knee-breeches, grey worsted stockings (I thought I knew the maker), and
strong-nailed shoes. He carried his hat in his hand, as if he liked to
feel the coming breeze lifting his hair. After a while, I saw that the
father took hold of the daughter's hand, and so, they holding each
other, went along towards home. We had to cross a lane. In it were two
little children, one lying prone on the grass in a passion of crying,
the other standing stock still, with its finger in its mouth, the large
tears slowly rolling down its cheeks for sympathy. The cause of their
distress was evident; there was a broken brown pitcher, and a little
pool of spilt milk on the road.

'Hollo! Hollo! What's all this?' said the minister. 'Why, what have you
been about, Tommy,' lifting the little petticoated lad, who was lying
sobbing, with one vigorous arm. Tommy looked at him with surprise in
his round eyes, but no affright--they were evidently old acquaintances.

'Mammy's jug!' said he, at last, beginning to cry afresh.

'Well! and w