erty o' conscience; and, like enough, that's a bit of evidence."

"How so, Will?"

"Quite likely there wasn't a landlord lib'ral enough to give 'em a
patch o' ground within reach o' th' village. Shoved 'em off as far as
they could, to please Mr. Parson, and not contam'nate his church with
the sight of an honest dissenter."

He said all this sententiously and didactically, as one who enjoys
speaking on historical or sociological subjects; but then a cloud
seemed to descend upon him, and he relapsed into gloomy silence.

After another mile they came to Vine-Pits Farm, the home of Mr. Bates
the corn-merchant. It was one of the few stone houses of the district,
a compact snug-looking nucleus from which an irregular wing, rather
higher than the main building, advanced to the very edge of the
roadway. A much smaller wing, merely an excrescence, on the other
side, seemed as if it had gone as far as it could in the direction of
making a quadrangle and had then given over the task to a broad low
wall. The square piece of garden, though untidy and neglected, derived
a great air of dignity from its stone surrounding, and importance was
added to the house by the solid range of outbuildings, barns, and
stables. A rick yard with haystacks so big that they showed above the
tops of fruit trees and yews, three or four wagons and carts, half a
dozen busy men, made the whole Bates establishment seem quite like a
thriving little town all to itself.

"It's a funny name, Vine-Pits," said Mavis, still making conversation.
"I wonder why ever they called it that."

"There was formerly a quantity of old pits 'longside the
rick-bargan--same as you see forcing-pits at a market-gardener's--and
the tale goes that they were orig'nally placed there for the purpose
of growing grapes on the same principle as cucumbers or melons."

"What a funny idea!"

"'Twas a failure. Sort of a gentleman farmer had the notion he knew
better than others, and tried it on year after year till he made a
laughing-stock of himself. Anyhow, that's the tale. Mr. Bates has
shown me the basis of the pits--built over now by the buildings you
were looking at. Ah, here is the old fellow."

Mr. Bates driving toward them in his gig pulled up, and invited Dale
to do so also.

"How are you, William?" And he took off his hat to Mrs. Dale. "Your
servant, madam. Turn head about, William, and come into my place and
take a bit of refreshment."

"No, thank you, Mr. Bates. Not