nded. "Fortune-telling!" said she, "I
should think not. But you know nothing about it;" and she bent her head
once more over the book.

"I tell you what, young person," said I, "I know all about that book;
what will you wager that I do not?"

"I never wager," said the girl.

"Shall I tell you the name of it," said I, "O daughter of the dairy?"

The girl half started. "I should never have thought," said she, half
timidly, "that you could have guessed it."

"I did not guess it," said I, "I knew it; and meet and proper it is that
you should read it."

"Why so?" said the girl.

"Can the daughter of the dairy read a more fitting book than the
_Dairyman's Daughter_?"

"Where do you come from?" said the girl.

"Out of the water," said I. "Don't start, I have been bathing; are you
fond of the water?"

"No," said the girl, heaving a sigh; "I am not fond of the water, that
is, of the sea;" and here she sighed again.

"The sea is a wide gulf," said I, "and frequently separates hearts."

The girl sobbed.

"Why are you alone here?" said I.

"I take my turn with the rest," said the girl, "to keep at home on
Sunday."

"And you are--" said I.

"The master's niece!" said the girl. "How came you to know it? But why
did you not go with the rest and with your friends?"

"Who are those you call my friends?" said I.

"Peter and his wife."

"And who are they?" said I.

"Do you not know?" said the girl; "you came with them."

"They found me ill by the way," said I; "and they relieved me: I know
nothing about them."

"I thought you knew everything," said the girl.

"There are two or three things which I do not know, and this is one of
them. Who are they?"

"Did you never hear of the great Welsh preacher, Peter Williams?"

"Never," said I.

"Well," said the girl, "this is he, and Winifred is his wife, and a nice
person she is. Some people say, indeed, that she is as good a preacher
as her husband, though of that matter I can say nothing, having never
heard her preach. So these two wander over all Wales and the greater
part of England, comforting the hearts of the people with their doctrine,
and doing all the good they can. They frequently come here, for the
mistress is a Welsh woman, and an old friend of both, and then they take
up their abode in the cart beneath the old oaks down there by the
stream."

"And what is their reason for doing so?" said I; "would it not be more
comfortable to sleep bene