, where a gray old house was sheltering. The lonely
moorside farm--if such a wild and desolate spot could be a farm--was
known as "Wallhead," from the relics of some ancient wall; and the
folk who lived there, or tried to live, although they possessed a
surname--which is not a necessary consequence of life--very seldom used
it, and more rarely still had it used for them. For the ancient fashion
still held ground of attaching the idea of a man to that of things more
extensive and substantial. So the head of the house was "Will o'
the Wallhead;" his son was "Tommy o' Will o' the Wallhead;" and his
grandson, "Willy o' Tommy o' Will o' the Wallhead." But the one their
great lady desired to see was the unmarried daughter of the house,
"Sally o' Will o' the Wallhead."

Mistress Yordas knew that the men of the house would be out upon the
land at this time of day, while Sally would be full of household work,
and preparing their homely supper. So she walked in bravely at the
open door, while her sister waited with the pony in the yard. Sally was
clumping about in clog-shoes, with a child or two sprawling after her
(for Tommy's wife was away with him at work), and if the place was not
as clean as could be, it seemed as clean as need be.

The natives of this part are rough in manner, and apt to regard civility
as the same thing with servility. Their bluntness does not proceed from
thickness, as in the south of England, but from a surety of their own
worth, and inferiority to no one. And to deal with them rightly, this
must be entered into.

Sally o' Will o' the Wallhead bobbed her solid and black curly head,
with a clout like a jelly on the poll of it, to the owner of their land,
and a lady of high birth; but she vouchsafed no courtesy, neither did
Mistress Yordas expect one. But the active and self-contained woman set
a chair in the low dark room, which was their best, and stood waiting to
be spoken to.

"Sally," said the lady, who also possessed the Yorkshire gift of going
to the point, "you had a man ten years ago; you behaved badly to him,
and he went into the Indian Company."

"A' deed," replied the maiden, without any blush, because she had been
in the right throughout; "and noo a' hath coom in a better moind."

"And you have come to know your own mind about him. You have been
steadfast to him for ten years. He has saved up some money, and is come
back to marry you."

"I heed nane o' the brass. But my Jack is back ag