low. Absalom had his coat off in an instant, and felled Roaring
Billy like an ox. A row began. The landlord, jealous of his license,
turned them all out into the road, when one or two, overcome by the
fresh air on top of so much liquor, quietly laid down in the dust.
Absalom, mad with drink and vanity, hit out right and left, and piled up
three half-stupefied fellows on top of each other, then, shouting--

"I'm the king of the castle!"

stood up in the middle of the road, and brandishing his arms, challenged
all comers.

At that moment a pair of ponies dashed round the corner and suddenly
stopped--obstructed by half-a-dozen men lying in the way. A tall
gentleman, with a very broad forehead, a very small nose, and a
profusion of grey beard, sprang out, and went up to the landlord, who
stood at the door.

"Johnson," said he sharply, "this is disgraceful. What's that fellow's
name?" pointing to Absalom.

The landlord of course didn't know--was very sorry.

"I can tell 'ee, zur," said a voice, almost a childish treble, and old
Tim crept out from whence he had been sipping up the forsaken goblets.
"It be Absalom White--it be."

"Very good," said the Reverend J. Horton, and resuming his seat, drove
on; while Absalom, shouting and staggering, marched down the road,
imagining he had carried all before him.

The Reverend J. Horton was the owner of the allotment grounds, which he
had broken up from the glebe land with the idea of benefiting the poor.
Every tenant received a circular of rules which were to be observed.
Foremost amongst these was a rule against fighting and drinking. Absalom
next week received an intimation that he must give up his allotment. He
swore, and said it didn't matter a "cuss," it was autumn, and the crop
was up, and he'd warrant he'd get another piece before spring somewhere.
But Madge cried, for her mother had prophesied evil from this offending
of the "gentle-folk." Absalom kissed her and went to his work.

Madge, despite these things, was happy enough. Her education had not
taught her to expect great things. She went forth to her work in the
morning with a light heart. Merry as a cricket, she forgot in the
sunshine all the ominous forebodings of her feeble old mother. It so
chanced, however, that Absalom's master could not find her employment at
that season, and she therefore worked on a farm at a little distance.
Madge saw little of Absalom, except at night, and then he was tired a