him that I did not believe he had killed Wolf."

"Then it was very improper behaviour on your part, Kate," her
mother said angrily, for she had never quite recovered from the
shock Mrs. Whitney had given to her dignity. "You know my opinion
on the subject. I have told you before that it is one I do not care
to have discussed, and that I consider it very improper for a girl,
of your age, to hold opinions different to those of your elders. I
have no doubt, whatever, that boy poisoned the dog. I must beg of
you that you will never speak to him again."

Kate leaned back in the carriage with a little sigh. She could not
understand why her mother, who was so kind to all the village
people, should be so implacable on this subject. But Kate, who was
now between fourteen and fifteen, knew that when her mother had
taken up certain opinions they were not to be shaken; and that her
father himself always avoided argument, on points on which he
differed from her. Talking alone with his daughter the squire had,
in answer to her sturdy assertion of Reuben's innocence, owned to
her that he himself had his doubts on the subject, and that he was
sorry he had dismissed the boy from his service; but she had never
heard him do more than utter a protest, against Reuben's guilt
being held as being absolutely proved, when her mother spoke of his
delinquency.

But Kate was not one to desert a protege and, having been the means
of Reuben's introduction to her father's, she had always regarded
herself as his natural protector; and Mrs. Ellison would not have
been pleased, had she known that her daughter had seldom met the
schoolmaster without inquiring if he had heard how Reuben was
getting on. She had even asked Mr. Shrewsbury to assure him of her
belief in his innocence, which had been done; but she had resolved
that, should she ever meet him, she would herself tell him so, even
at the risk of her mother's displeasure.

Another year passed. Reuben was now seventeen, and was a tall,
powerfully-built young fellow. During these four years he had never
been over to Tipping, in the daytime; but had occasionally walked
over, after dark, to visit the Shrewsburys, always going on special
invitation, when he knew that no one else would be there. The
Thornes no longer occupied the little public house. Tom Thorne had,
a year before, been captured with two other poachers in the
squire's woods, and had had six months' hard labour; and his father
had at