have valued you as I do, my boy,' and then Mr
Catcott flung down his money for his pot of beer, and clapping
Chatterton on the back, went out with him into the streets of the city
again, his arm linked in his, and his portly figure contrasting with the
slight boyish form at his side.

CHAPTER XI

CHRISTMAS AT THE FARM.

Mrs Lambert became more and more dependent on Bryda. She was an utterly
selfish old lady, and selfish people have a strange power of getting all
they want out of those who minister to their particular weaknesses and
foster their self-love and self-indulgence. Bryda was allowed to go home
for two days at Christmas, having first made the puddings, and pastry
for the mince pies, and cut the citron and orange peel into the
prescribed portions for the rum punch which would be brewed for the
Christmas supper.

Bryda was driven home in the cart which brought in some turnips and
potatoes to Mr Henderson and produce for the Christmas market. Jack, to
his great satisfaction, was allowed to return for Christmas, and include
boxing day, not then as now the recognised holiday, but still a day of
feasting and general jollification amongst the people.

Bryda's spirits rose when she reached the farm once more. She had been
very quiet during the ride, and Jack was not a person of many words, but
when Bet came out to clasp her in her arms, and her friend Flick went
nearly mad with joy, she felt a thrill of satisfaction that by her means
those she loved were still left in peaceful enjoyment of the old home.

Her grandfather was more like himself, and when she arrived had just
returned from an inspection of the stock with Silas, with a colour on
his cheek like that of russet apple, and leaning less heavily on his
staff.

'Well, my lass,' he said, 'town air has taken some of your colour from
your cheeks, but you look like a wild rose all the same. Well--' and
then the old man sank down on the settle and surveyed his grandchild
with some admiring glances.

'Quite the town miss!' Dorothy Burrow said. 'I hope you ain't putting
all your earnings on your back, Biddy?'

'No, aunt, not I. Madam Lambert gave me this sacque which makes me so
smart, and some lace ruffles, beside my half-year's wages. Oh, I am
quite rich, I can tell you.'

Bryda had time to hear all Bet's news in their own room before the
evening meal.

'The Squire comes here sometimes,' Bet said; 'he is wonderfully kind. I
can't help thinking h