kept her father awake. Billy had
taken an opportunity to tell his master of the general report and spread
before him the facts as he knew them.

The younger members of the household had retired early, and when Miller
Lyddon took the cards from the mantelpiece and made ready for their
customary game, Mr. Blee shook his head and refused to play.

"Got no heart for cards to-night," he said.

"What's amiss, then? Thank God I've heard little to call ill news for a
month or two. Not but what I've fancied a shadow on my gal's face more'n
wance."

"If not on hers, wheer should 'e see it?" asked Mr. Blee eagerly."
I've seed it, tu, an' for that matter theer's sour looks an' sighs
elsewheer. People ban't blind, worse luck. 'Tis grawed to be common
talk, an' I've fired myself to tell you, 'cause 'tis fitting an' right,
an' it might come more grievous from less careful lips."

"Go on then; an' doan't rack me longer'n you can help. Use few words."

"Many words must go to it, I reckon. 'Tis well knawn I unfolds a bit o'
news like the flower of the field--gradual and sure. You might have
noticed that love-cheel by the name of Timothy 'bout the plaace? Him as
be just of age to harry the ducks an' such-like."

"A nice li'l bwoy, tu, an' fond of me; an' you caan't say he'm a
love-cheel, knawin' nothin' 'bout him."

"Love-cheel or changeling, 'tis all wan. Have'e ever thought 'twas
coorious the way Blanchard comed by un?"

"Certainly 'twas--terrible coorious."

"You never doubted it?"

"Why for should I? Will's truthful as light, whatever else he may be."

"You believe as he went 'pon the Moor an' found that bwoy in a
roundy-poundy under the gloamin'?"

"Ess, I do."

"Have'e ever looked at the laddie close?"

"Oftentimes--so like Will as two peas."

"Theer 'tis! The picter of Will! How do'e read that?"

"Never tried to. An accident, no more."

"A damn queer accident, if you ax me. Burnish it all! You doan't see
yet, such a genius of a man as you tu! Why, Will Blanchard's the faither
of the li'l twoad! You've awnly got to know the laws of nature an'
such-like to swear to it. The way he walks an' holds his head, his
curls, his fashion of lording it awver the birds an' beasts, the sudden
laugh of un--he's Will's son, for a thousand pound, an' his mother's
alive, like as not."

"No mother would have gived up a child that way."

"'Zactly so! Onless she gived it to the faither!" said Billy
triumphantly.

Mr. Lyddon