"Now, Marty, I believe--" he said, and shook his head.

"What?"

"That you've done the work yourself."

"Don't you tell anybody, will you, Mr. Winterborne?" she pleaded, by
way of answer. "Because I am afraid Mr. Melbury may refuse my work if
he knows it is mine."

"But how could you learn to do it? 'Tis a trade."

"Trade!" said she. "I'd be bound to learn it in two hours."

"Oh no, you wouldn't, Mrs. Marty." Winterborne held down his lantern,
and examined the cleanly split hazels as they lay. "Marty," he said,
with dry admiration, "your father with his forty years of practice
never made a spar better than that. They are too good for the
thatching of houses--they are good enough for the furniture. But I
won't tell. Let me look at your hands--your poor hands!"

He had a kindly manner of a quietly severe tone; and when she seemed
reluctant to show her hands, he took hold of one and examined it as if
it were his own. Her fingers were blistered.

"They'll get harder in time," she said. "For if father continues ill,
I shall have to go on wi' it. Now I'll help put 'em up in wagon."

Winterborne without speaking set down his lantern, lifted her as she
was about to stoop over the bundles, placed her behind him, and began
throwing up the bundles himself. "Rather than you should do it I
will," he said. "But the men will be here directly. Why,
Marty!--whatever has happened to your head? Lord, it has shrunk to
nothing--it looks an apple upon a gate-post!"

Her heart swelled, and she could not speak. At length she managed to
groan, looking on the ground, "I've made myself ugly--and
hateful--that's what I've done!"

"No, no," he answered. "You've only cut your hair--I see now.

"Then why must you needs say that about apples and gate-posts?"

"Let me see."

"No, no!" She ran off into the gloom of the sluggish dawn. He did not
attempt to follow her. When she reached her father's door she stood on
the step and looked back. Mr. Melbury's men had arrived, and were
loading up the spars, and their lanterns appeared from the distance at
which she stood to have wan circles round them, like eyes weary with
watching. She observed them for a few seconds as they set about
harnessing the horses, and then went indoors.

CHAPTER IV.

There was now a distinct manifestation of morning in the air, and
presently the bleared white visage of a sunless winter day emerged like
a dead-born child. The villagers every