d she. 'Philip knows manners too
well.'

'He'd better,' said Sylvia, flaming round at him. 'If he'd a touched
me, I'd niver ha' spoken to him no more.' And she looked even as it
was as if she was far from forgiving him.

'Hoots, lass! wenches are brought up sa mim, now-a-days; i' my time
they'd ha' thought na' such great harm of a kiss.'

'Good-night, Philip,' said Bell Robson, thinking the conversation
unseemly.

'Good-night, aunt, good-night, Sylvie!' But Sylvia turned her back
on him, and he could hardly say 'good-night' to Daniel, who had
caused such an unpleasant end to an evening that had at one time
been going on so well.

CHAPTER IX

THE SPECKSIONEER

A few days after, Farmer Robson left Haytersbank betimes on a
longish day's journey, to purchase a horse. Sylvia and her mother
were busied with a hundred household things, and the early winter's
evening closed in upon them almost before they were aware. The
consequences of darkness in the country even now are to gather the
members of a family together into one room, and to make them settle
to some sedentary employment; and it was much more the case at the
period of my story, when candles were far dearer than they are at
present, and when one was often made to suffice for a large family.

The mother and daughter hardly spoke at all when they sat down at
last. The cheerful click of the knitting-needles made a pleasant
home-sound; and in the occasional snatches of slumber that overcame
her mother, Sylvia could hear the long-rushing boom of the waves,
down below the rocks, for the Haytersbank gulley allowed the sullen
roar to come up so far inland. It might have been about eight
o'clock--though from the monotonous course of the evening it seemed
much later--when Sylvia heard her father's heavy step cranching down
the pebbly path. More unusual, she heard his voice talking to some
companion.

Curious to see who it could be, with a lively instinctive advance
towards any event which might break the monotony she had begun to
find somewhat dull, she sprang up to open the door. Half a glance
into the gray darkness outside made her suddenly timid, and she drew
back behind the door as she opened it wide to admit her father and
Kinraid.

Daniel Robson came in bright and boisterous. He was pleased with his
purchase, and had had some drink to celebrate his bargain. He had
ridden the new mare into Monkshaven, and left her at the smithy
there until morning,