world, and had no girl of her own age
to make friends with, she was happy and contented, for she was busy
from morning till night.

And yet in spite of all this, strange stories began to be whispered
about the village. People who happened to pass by the old hut late at
night declared that they had seen light shining through the chinks in
the window-shutter when all honest people should have been asleep.
There were others who said they had noticed strange men standing in the
shadows of the eaves; they might have been highwaymen, they might have
been smugglers--they could not tell, for no one had cared to run the
risk of going too near--but it was quite certain that there were
strange things going on at the hut, and that the girl who seemed so
simple and innocent was not quite so good as the neighbours had
imagined.

When the village gossip had reached the ears of the white-headed old
Vicar, he sent for the girl and questioned her closely. Mary was
grieved to learn that such untrue and unkind stories were told about
her. She knew nothing, she said, of any lights or of any men. As soon
as it was too dusky to see to work she always fastened her door, and
after she had had her supper, she covered the fire and blew out the
rushlight and went to bed.

"And you say your prayers, my daughter, I hope?" said the Vicar kindly.

Mary hung down her head and answered in a low voice, "I do not know any
proper prayers, but I always say the words my mother taught me."

And Mary repeated the rhyme:

_God bless this house from thatch to floor,_
_The twelve Apostles guard the door,_
_And four good Angels watch my bed,_
_Two at the foot and two the head._
_Amen._

"There could not be a better prayer, dear child!" rejoined the Vicar,
with a smile. "Go home now, and do not be troubled by what idle
tongues may say. Every night repeat your little prayer, and God will
take care of you."

Late that night, however, the Vicar lit his lantern and went out of
doors, without a word to any one. All the village was still and dark
as he walked slowly up the road towards the moor.

"She is a good girl," he said to himself, "but people may have observed
something which has given rise to these stories. I will go and see
with my own eyes."

The stars were shining far away in the dark sky, and the green plovers
were crying mournfully on the dark moor. As he passed along the
lantern swung out a dim light across the r