His
Majesty. At least--"

"Are you quite sure you know what you do mean, Mr Featherstone?"
demanded Tom. "Sounds as if you'd got a bit mixed up, like. Is it the
King you've seen, or is't Will Jackson?"

Tom rather suspected that Featherstone was not quite sober. But he was,
though between annoyance and self-exaltation he was behaving rather
oddly.

"Look here!" he said angrily, holding out the diamond clasp. "Was Will
Jackson like to give me such as this for Mrs Jenny? I tell you, His
Majesty the King gave it me with his own hand."

Suddenly Tom's conscience spoke. "Are you acting like a Christian man,
Tom Fenton?" it said. "Have you any right to work Featherstone up into
a passion, however foolish he may have been? Is that charitable? is it
Christ-like?"

"Very good, Mr Featherstone," said Tom quietly.

"I ask your pardon, and I'll relieve you of my company. Good night--
Good night, Jenny."

Jenny could have cried with disappointment. She was afraid that Tom was
vexed with her, and wholly unwilling to be left to the society of
Featherstone. As to the diamond buckle, she did not half believe the
story. Tom's action, however, had its effect upon Featherstone.

"Don't you believe me, Mrs Jenny?" he said more gently. "I doubt I've
made a mess of my story, but 'tis really true. Will Jackson was the
King himself in disguise, and he bade me bring that to you, and tell you
that he entirely agreed with you that Will was an ill-looking fellow."

When Jenny really understood the truth, she was overwhelmed. Was it
possible that she had actually told King Charles to his face that she
considered him ugly? Of course she was pleased with the gift in itself,
and with his kindly pardon of her impertinence.

"But, eh dear!" she said, turning round the clasp, which flashed and
glistened as it was moved, "such as this isn't fit for the likes of me!"

Farmer Lavender was exceedingly pleased to see the clasp and hear its
story, and in his exultation gave Featherstone a general invitation to
"turn in and see them whenever he'd a mind."

"Why, Jenny!" cried Kate, "you'll have to hand that down to your
grandchildren!"

Jenny only smiled faintly as she went upstairs. She liked the clasp,
and she liked the gracious feeling which had sent it; but what really
occupied her more than either was a distressed fear that she had
offended Tom Fenton. He never came to the farm now. The only hope she
had of seeing him l