ges and disadvantages had been so equally distributed that by
this time they were pretty nearly harmless to each other, but each was
sustained by the hope of victory, and each would have died, and, for the
matter of that, would have gone on dying, rather than yield the precious
palm to the other.

Now the clergyman who ministered to the spiritual wants of Beacon
Hargate was never disposed to gorge his flock with too much doctrine
at a time, and on this Sabbath had an invitation to luncheon at a great
house some four or five miles away, and so treated his parishioners--to
the scandal of some and the joy of others--to the shortest discourse
they had ever heard from the pulpit. By this mischance it happened that
the combatants were discovered by a silent male advance-guard of the
home-returning congregation, who ran back--his footsteps soundless on
the grass--to spread the splendid news. Sunday or week-day there was no
more welcome break in the monotony of life in Beacon Hargate than that
afforded by a fight. The time being church-time, and the combatants men
of respectable position, lent piquancy to the event, of course, as who
shall say me nay? The churchgoers, two or three farmers, Mr. Drake,
the manager of Lord Barfield's estates at Heydon Hey, and a handful of
labourers came up, at first stealthily, and then more boldly, and looked
on at the finish.

It was plain that the fight had been severe, but it was equally plain
that the best of it was over; and when Farmer Fellowes interposed as
_amicus curio_, nobody but the two most concerned had any especial
resentment against him.

Even for them Farmer Fellowes had a crumb of comfort.

'Finish it another time, lads,' he said. 'Where's the good o' goin' on
wi' it i' this manner? Why a child might homber the pair on you. Get
fresh an' have another turn to-morrow, if the 'casion's worth it.'

So the fight was left undecided after all, and the adversaries were
led off to the neighbouring brook, where they made themselves as
respectable to look at as they could before they took their several
ways. They were unsightly for a week or two, and were close watched by
their women folk lest they should renew the strife.

Beacon Hargate knew perfectly well the reason of the battle, and Bertha
was mightily disdainful and indignant over both her lovers, who, to her
fancy, had disgraced themselves and her. Six days after the fight John
Thistlewood's business for once in a way, as wel