the selfish beggars. The Almighty meant 'em to pair off. Two an' two
they went into t' ark, an' two an' two they should go yet if I'd my
way. It's nature. An' I never could see yet why t' wimmen should 'ave
to sit quiet an' wait for t' men to come an' ask for 'em. A woman
knows better by 'alf what man 'ud suit 'er, an' 'er 'im, than t' man
knows. She knows without knowing how she knows; whereas t' man just
sees a pretty face, an' some dainty little feet i' 'igh-heeled boots,
an' some frizzy 'air, 'at she's bought as like as not at a barber's,
an' there ye are! But where are ye in toathree years' time? Aye, to
be sure, where are ye then?"

"Perhaps if conventionality had permitted, your state might have been
changed again by now," I suggested slyly.

"Well, now, to be sure, Miss Holden," she replied, drawing her chair a
little nearer to mine, and laying one hand upon my lap for emphasis, "I
thought after Robertsha' died 'at it were a case of 'once bitten, twice
shy,' for there were odd times when he filled up the cup, so to speak.
But, ye know, I missed 'im; an' though it's twelve year sin' come
Shrove-tide, I miss 'im yet; an' if I had the askin' I've known for a
long time who it 'ud be 'at 'ud take his place; but ye see I 'aven't,
so I bide as I am."

I thought of the old fox, Simon Barjona, and laughed inwardly as well
as outwardly. Widow Robertshaw little realised that I knew her secret.

Outside the storm raged furiously. The snow lay thick upon the ground,
moist as it fell, but frozen in a moment, and to venture out seemed in
my case impossible. We held a council of ways and means which resulted
in the production of a young man of strong build from a cottage a few
doors away, who smiled at the storm and readily undertook, in exchange
for a shilling, coin of the realm--to convey a note to Mother Hubbard,
describing my predicament.

I enjoyed Widow Robertshaw's hospitality, perforce, for two days, and
when I returned home it was in Mr. Higgins' market cart, he having
called in the Gap "casual-like" to see how Mrs. Robertshaw was "going
on."

CHAPTER XI

GINTY RUNS AWAY

What a curious medley life is! How crowded with dramatic situations
and sudden anti-climaxes! Even in Windyridge the programme of
existence is as varied and full of interest as that of any picture
palace. We have all the combinations of tragedy and pathos and humour,
and he who has eyes to see and ears to hear and a hear