more and more vehement, and his loud voice
attracted the passers-by.

'Hush, Jack, people are staring at you! Do you suppose I would be bought
like that? No! What would Bet say? I would sooner die than strike a
bargain like that!'

'I'd sooner see you dead,' Jack replied.

Bryda was afraid to say more that would rouse Jack's wrath, so she asked
him to be sure to let her hear any news of home.

'I sha'n't hear any news. No one ever writes to me. When the farm
produce comes in once a month on market days the old carter asks if I am
in good health--with the missus' love--that's about all.'

'I am writing to Bet, little bits every day. I have got an ink-pot and a
quill pen up in the garret, and Mr Chatterton gave me some paper from
the office, but I don't think that is quite honest, so please buy me a
little. I can give you a shilling,' she said, putting her hand in the
large pocket which was fastened to her waist under the short skirt.

Jack pushed her hand away.

'I don't want your shilling,' he said.

'Oh, Jack, why are you so cross-grained,' Bryda said, 'it is not like
you.'

'I don't feel like myself neither,' poor Jack said, 'but I'll be in a
better temper when I see you next Sunday, and don't have that mad boy at
your heels. Take care what you do in Bristol; it is full of people, and
some of them are bad enough. So take care, for you know you are--well,
you have only to look in a glass to see. Good-bye, Bryda, I won't come
up to the door.'

Bryda found Mrs Lambert only half awake in her easy-chair, with the best
china teacups and a small teapot before her. Blair's sermons and the
port wine together had caused a prolonged slumber, and Sam had brought
in the tray all unobserved at five o'clock. Mr Lambert generally spent
his Sunday afternoons with a friend at Long Ashton, and sometimes one of
Mrs Lambert's cronies looked in on her for a dish of tea and a gossip.
But no one had arrived on this afternoon, and the good lady had thus
slept on undisturbed.

'What is the time, Miss Palmer? It must be time for tea.'

'Oh, yes, madam; it is six o'clock. I will go and boil the kettle, and
make the tea; please give me the keys of the caddy.'

Bryda took the large tortoiseshell caddy from the shelf in the glass
cupboard, and Mrs Lambert solemnly unlocked it. Tea was precious in
those days, and Mrs Lambert took a teaspoon and carefully measured the
precise quantity, saying,--

'One for each person, and one for t