ester
took his leave before long; falling, as he did so, into the formal
and unnaturally respectful manner which he had adopted on first
coming in.

But Sylvia ran after him, and brought him back from the door.

'To think of thy going away, Kester, without either bit or drink;
nay, come back wi' thee, and taste wine and cake.'

Kester stood at the door, half shy, half pleased, while Sylvia, in
all the glow and hurry of a young housekeeper's hospitality, sought
for the decanter of wine, and a wine-glass in the corner cupboard,
and hastily cut an immense wedge of cake, which she crammed into his
hand in spite of his remonstrances; and then she poured him out an
overflowing glass of wine, which Kester would far rather have gone
without, as he knew manners too well to suppose that he might taste
it without having gone through the preliminary ceremony of wishing
the donor health and happiness. He stood red and half smiling, with
his cake in one hand, his wine in the other, and then began,--

'Long may ye live,
Happy may ye he,
And blest with a num'rous
Pro-ge-ny.'

'Theere, that's po'try for yo' as I larnt i' my youth. But there's a
deal to be said as cannot be put int' po'try, an' yet a cannot say
it, somehow. It 'd tax a parson t' say a' as a've getten i' my mind.
It's like a heap o' woo' just after shearin' time; it's worth a
deal, but it tak's a vast o' combin', an' cardin', an' spinnin'
afore it can be made use on. If a were up to t' use o' words, a
could say a mighty deal; but somehow a'm tongue-teed when a come to
want my words most, so a'll only just mak' bold t' say as a think
yo've done pretty well for yo'rsel', getten a house-full o'
furniture' (looking around him as he said this), 'an' vittle an'
clothin' for t' axing, belike, an' a home for t' missus in her time
o' need; an' mebbe not such a bad husband as a once thought yon man
'ud mak'; a'm not above sayin' as he's, mebbe, better nor a took him
for;--so here's to ye both, and wishin' ye health and happiness, ay,
and money to buy yo' another, as country folk say.'

Having ended his oration, much to his own satisfaction, Kester
tossed off his glass of wine, smacked his lips, wiped his mouth with
the back of his hand, pocketed his cake, and made off.

That night Sylvia spoke of his visit to her husband. Philip never
said how he himself had brought it to pass, nor did he name the fact
that he had heard the old man come in just as he himself had