ome, now, I must charge you
for overweight.' Now, captain, have you got such an honest dog as that?"

"I would have claimed him, that I would, if such a clever dog were
weighed to me. But, sir, you have got the better of me. What a man for
stories you be, for sure! Come in to our fire-place." Farmer Anerley was
conquered by this tale, which he told fifty times every year he lived
thereafter, never failing to finish with, "What rogues they be, up York
way!"

Master Mordacks was delighted with this piece of luck on his side.
Many times he had been longing to get in at Anerley, not only from the
reputation of good cheer there, but also from kind curiosity to see the
charming Mary, who was now becoming an important element of business.
Since Robin had given him the slip so sadly--a thing it was impossible
to guard against--the best chance of hearing what became of him would be
to get into the good graces of his sweetheart.

"We have been very sadly for a long time now," said the farmer, as he
knocked at his own porch door with the handle of his bill-hook. "There
used to be one as was always welcome here; and a pleasure it was to see
him make himself so pleasant, sir. But ever since the Lord took him home
from his family, without a good-by, as a man might say, my wife hath
taken to bar the doors whiles I am away and out of sight." Stephen
Anerley knocked harder, as he thus explained the need of it; for it
grieved him to have his house shut up.

"Very wise of them all to bar out such weather," said Mordacks, who read
the farmer's thoughts like print, "Don't relax your rules, sir, until
the weather changes. Ah, that was a very sad thing about the captain. As
gallant an officer, and as single-minded, as ever killed a Frenchman in
the best days of our navy."

"Single-minded is the very word to give him, sir. I sought about for it
ever since I heard of him coming to an end like that, and doing of his
duty in the thick of it. If I could only get a gentleman to tell me, or
an officer's wife would be better still, what the manners is when a poor
lady gets her husband shot, I'll be blest if I wouldn't go straight
and see her, though they make such a distance betwixt us and the
regulars.--Oh, then, ye've come at last! No thief, no thief."

"Father," cried Mary, bravely opening all the door, of which the
ruffian wind made wrong by casting her figure in high relief--and yet a
pardonable wrong--"father, you are quite wise to come h