sin' ye began trade."

"And decent people--the whole family?"

"Niver dacenter. Th' wife's a raight cant body, and as clean--ye mught
eat your porridge off th' house floor. They're sorely comed down. I wish
William could get a job as gardener or summat i' that way; he
understands gardening weel. He once lived wi' a Scotchman that tached
him the mysteries o' that craft, as they say."

"Now, then, you can go, Joe. You need not stand there staring at me."

"Ye've no orders to give, sir?"

"None, but for you to take yourself off."

Which Joe did accordingly.

* * * * *

Spring evenings are often cold and raw, and though this had been a fine
day, warm even in the morning and meridian sunshine, the air chilled at
sunset, the ground crisped, and ere dusk a hoar frost was insidiously
stealing over growing grass and unfolding bud. It whitened the pavement
in front of Briarmains (Mr. Yorke's residence), and made silent havoc
among the tender plants in his garden, and on the mossy level of his
lawn. As to that great tree, strong-trunked and broad-armed, which
guarded the gable nearest the road, it seemed to defy a spring-night
frost to harm its still bare boughs; and so did the leafless grove of
walnut-trees rising tall behind the house.

In the dusk of the moonless if starry night, lights from windows shone
vividly. This was no dark or lonely scene, nor even a silent one.
Briarmains stood near the highway. It was rather an old place, and had
been built ere that highway was cut, and when a lane winding up through
fields was the only path conducting to it. Briarfield lay scarce a mile
off; its hum was heard, its glare distinctly seen. Briar Chapel, a
large, new, raw Wesleyan place of worship, rose but a hundred yards
distant; and as there was even now a prayer-meeting being held within
its walls, the illumination of its windows cast a bright reflection on
the road, while a hymn of a most extraordinary description, such as a
very Quaker might feel himself moved by the Spirit to dance to, roused
cheerily all the echoes of the vicinage. The words were distinctly
audible by snatches. Here is a quotation or two from different strains;
for the singers passed jauntily from hymn to hymn and from tune to tune,
with an ease and buoyancy all their own:--

"Oh! who can explain
This struggle for life,
This travail and pain,
This trembling and strife?
Plague, earthquake, an