they deserved to be hanged if they did not.

Mary fixed on the word angel. "If I was an angel," she said, "I shouldn't
be hungry, and I am, awfully. Oh, please come home; papa is so punctual.
Mr. Hope, are you going to tell papa? Because if you _are_, just you take
me and throw me in again. I'd rather be drowned than scolded." (This with
a defiant attitude and flashing eyes.)

"No, no," said Hope. "I will not tell him, to vex him, and get
you scolded."

"Then let us run home."

She took his hand, and he ran with her like a playmate, and oh! the
father's heart leaped and glowed at this sweet companionship after danger
and terror.

When they got near the house Mary Bartley began to walk and think. She
had a very thinking countenance at times, and Hope watched her, and
wondered what were her thoughts. She was very grave, so probably she was
thinking how very near she had been to the other world.

Standing on the door-step, whilst he stood on the gravel, she let him
know her thoughts. All her life, and even at this tender age, she had
very searching eyes; they were gray now, though they had been blue.
She put her hands to her waist, and bent those searching eyes on
William Hope.

"Mr. Hope," said she, in a resolute sort of way.

"My dear," said he, eagerly.

"YOU LOVE ME BETTER THAN PAPA DOES, THAT'S ALL."

And having administered this information as a dry fact that might be
worth looking into at leisure, she passed thoughtfully into the house.

CHAPTER VI.

SHARP PRACTICE.

Hope paid a visit to his native place in Derbyshire, and his poor
relations shared his prosperity, and blessed him, and Mr. Bartley upon
his report; for Hope was one of those choice spirits who praise the
bridge that carries them safe over the stream of adversity.

He returned to Sussex with all the news, and, amongst the rest, that
Colonel Clifford had a farm coming vacant. Walter Clifford had
insisted on a higher rent at the conclusion of the term, but the
tenant had demurred.

Bartley paid little attention at the time; but by-and-by he said, "Did
you not see signs of coal on Colonel Clifford's property?"

"That I did, and on this very farm, and told him so. But he is behind the
age. I have no patience with him. Take one of those old iron ramrods that
used to load the old musket, and cover that ramrod with prejudices a foot
and a half deep, and there you have Colonel Clifford."

"Well, but a tenant would not be bound by h