d
I'D plan with him. My word, if I were his wife, the farm would be run,
I know! But there, she hasn't the strength--she simply hasn't the
strength. She ought never to have been burdened like it, you know. I'm
sorry for her, and I'm sorry for him too. My word, if I'D had him, I
shouldn't have thought him a bad husband! Not that she does either; and
she's very lovable."

William came home again with his sweetheart at the Whitsuntide. He had
one week of his holidays then. It was beautiful weather. As a rule,
William and Lily and Paul went out in the morning together for a walk.
William did not talk to his beloved much, except to tell her things from
his boyhood. Paul talked endlessly to both of them. They lay down, all
three, in a meadow by Minton Church. On one side, by the Castle Farm,
was a beautiful quivering screen of poplars. Hawthorn was dropping
from the hedges; penny daisies and ragged robin were in the field, like
laughter. William, a big fellow of twenty-three, thinner now and even a
bit gaunt, lay back in the sunshine and dreamed, while she fingered with
his hair. Paul went gathering the big daisies. She had taken off her
hat; her hair was black as a horse's mane. Paul came back and threaded
daisies in her jet-black hair--big spangles of white and yellow, and
just a pink touch of ragged robin.

"Now you look like a young witch-woman," the boy said to her. "Doesn't
she, William?"

Lily laughed. William opened his eyes and looked at her. In his gaze was
a certain baffled look of misery and fierce appreciation.

"Has he made a sight of me?" she asked, laughing down on her lover.

"That he has!" said William, smiling.

He looked at her. Her beauty seemed to hurt him. He glanced at her
flower-decked head and frowned.

"You look nice enough, if that's what you want to know," he said.

And she walked without her hat. In a little while William recovered, and
was rather tender to her. Coming to a bridge, he carved her initials and
his in a heart.

L. L. W.

W. M.

She watched his strong, nervous hand, with its glistening hairs and
freckles, as he carved, and she seemed fascinated by it.

All the time there was a feeling of sadness and warmth, and a certain
tenderness in the house, whilst William and Lily were at home. But often
he got irritable. She had brought, for an eight-days' stay, five dresses
and six blouses.

"Oh, would you mind," she said to Annie, "washing me these two blouses,
and these thi