ome brilliant pigment, her black hair, and
the quivering black eyes, gave him odd fancies which he had hardly shaped
to himself. Annie had grown into a woman in three years, and he was still
a boy. She came into the kitchen, curtsying and smiling.

"Good-day, Master Lucian, and how is Mr. Taylor, sir?"

"Pretty well, thank you. I hope you are well."

"Nicely, sir, thank you. How nice your voice do sound in church, Master
Lucian, to be sure. I was telling father about it last Sunday."

Lucian grinned and felt uncomfortable, and the girl set down the jug on
the round table and brought a glass from the dresser. She bent close over
him as she poured out the green oily cider, fragrant of the orchard; her
hand touched his shoulder for a moment, and she said, "I beg your pardon,
sir," very prettily. He looked up eagerly at her face; the black eyes, a
little oval in shape, were shining, and the lips smiled. Annie wore a
plain dress of some black stuff, open at the throat; her skin was
beautiful. For a moment the ghost of a fancy hovered unsubstantial in his
mind; and then Annie curtsied as she handed him the cider, and replied to
his thanks with, "And welcome kindly, sir."

The drink was really good; not thin, nor sweet, but round and full and
generous, with a fine yellow flame twinkling through the green when one
held it up to the light. It was like a stray sunbeam hovering on the
grass in a deep orchard, and he swallowed the glassful with relish, and
had some more, warmly commending it. Mr. Morgan was touched.

"I see you do know a good thing, sir," he said. "Is, indeed, now, it's
good stuff, though it's my own makin'. My old grandfather he planted the
trees in the time of the wars, and he was a very good judge of an apple
in his day and generation. And a famous grafter he was, to be sure. You
will never see no swelling in the trees he grafted at all whatever. Now
there's James Morris, Penyrhaul, he's a famous grafter, too, and yet them
Redstreaks he grafted for me five year ago, they be all swollen-like
below the graft already. Would you like to taste a Blemmin pippin, now,
Master Lucian? there be a few left in the loft, I believe."

Lucian said he should like an apple very much, and the farmer went out by
another door, and Annie stayed in the kitchen talking. She said Mrs.
Trevor, her married sister, was coming to them soon to spend a few days.

"She's got such a beautiful baby," said Annie, "and he's quite
sensible-