th his hand, and lifting the latch he
opened the door a few inches.

"Bill, are you in?"

There was an exclamation of surprise.

"Why, surely, it's Maister Ned!" and Bill came to the door.

"Come out, Bill, I want to speak to you."

Much surprised at the low and subdued tone in which Ned spoke, Bill
snatched down his cap from the peg by the door and joined him outside.

"What be't, Maister Ned? what be t' matter with thee? Has owt gone
wrong?"

Ned walked on without speaking. In his yearning for sympathy, in his
intense desire to impart the miserable news to some one who would feel
for him, he had come to his friend Bill. He had thought first of going
to Mr. Porson. But though his master would sympathize with him he would
not be able to feel as he did; he would no doubt be shocked at hearing
that his mother was so soon going to marry again, but he would not
be able to understand the special dislike to Mr. Mulready, still less
likely to encourage his passionate resentment. Bill would, he knew, do
both, for it was from him he had learned how hated the mill owner was
among his people.

But at present he could not speak. He gave a short wave of his hand to
show that he heard, but could not answer yet, and with his head
bent down made his way out through the end of the village on to
the moor--Bill following him, wondering and sympathetic, unable to
conjecture what had happened.

Presently, when they had left the houses far behind them, Ned stopped.

"What be't, Maister Ned?" Bill again asked, laying his strong hand upon
Ned's shoulder; "tell oi what it be. Hast got in another row with t'
maister? If there be owt as oi can do, thou knowest well as Bill Swinton
be with thee heart and soul."

"I know, Bill--I know," Ned said in a broken voice, "but you can do
nothing; I can do nothing; no one can. But it's dreadful to think of.
It's worse than if I had killed twenty masters. Only think--only think,
Bill, my mother's going to marry Mulready!"

"Thou doesn't say so, lad! What! thy mother marry Foxey! Oi never heer'd
o' such a thing. Well, that be bad news, surely! Well, well, only to
think, now! Poor lad! Well, that beats all!"

The calamity appeared so great to Bill that for some time no idea
occurred to him which could, under the circumstances, be considered as
consolatory. But Ned felt the sympathy conveyed in the strong grasp of
his shoulder, and in the muttered "Well, well, now!" to which Bill gave
vent at i