ppin' buttermilk with a pitchfork."

"Will you _never_ be solid with me?" cried Liza, with extreme vexation
pictured on every feature as her scapegrace sweetheart tried to
imprison her hands in order to kiss her. "I tell you--" and then there
was some momentary whispering between them, which seemed to have the
effect of sobering Robbie in an instant. His exuberant vivacity gave
place to a look of the utmost solemnity, not unmixed with a painful
expression as of one who was struggling hard to gather together his
scattered wits.

"They'll only have another to take once they catch _him_," said Robbie
in an altered tone, as he drew his hand hard across his eyes.

There was some further whispering, and then the two went outside.
Returning to the door, Liza hailed her father, who joined them on the
causeway in front of the inn.

Robbie was another man. Of his reckless abandonment of spirit no trace
was left.

Mattha was told of the visit of the constables to Shoulthwaite, and of
Sim's despatch in search of Ralph.

"He'll be off for Carlisle," said Robbie, standing square on his legs,
and tugging with his cap off at the hair at the back of his head.

"Like eneuf," answered Mattha, "and likely that's the safest place for
him. It's best to sit near the fire when the chimney smokes, thoo
knows."

"He'll none go for safety, father," answered Robbie; and turning to
Liza, he added, "But what was it you said about Mother Garth?"

"The old witch-wife said that Ralph was wanted for murder," replied
the girl.

"It's a lie," said Robbie vehemently.

"I'll uphod thee there," said Mattha; "but whatever's to be done?"

"Why, Robbie must go and fetch Sim back," said Liza eagerly.

"The lass is right," said Robbie; "I'll be off." And the young man
swung on his heel as though about to carry out his purpose on the
instant.

"Stop, stop," said Mattha; "I reckon the laal tailor's got farther ner
the next cause'y post. You must come and tak a bite of dinner and set
away with summat in yer pocket."

"Hang the pocket! I must be off," said Robbie. But the old man took
him too firmly by the arm to allow of his escape without deliberate
rudeness. They turned and walked towards the weaver's cottage.

"What a maizelt fool I've been to spend my days and nights in this
hole!" said Robbie, tipping his finger over his shoulder towards the
Red Lion, from which they were walking.

"I've oft telt thee so," said Mattha, not fearing the char