That evening Sally was making 'pinners' for the milkers, who werenow increased by two, for her mother and herself no longer joined inmilking the cows themselves. But upon the whole there was littlechange in the household economy, and not much in its appearance,beyond such minor particulars as that the crack over the window,which had been a hundred years coming, was a trifle wider; that thebeams were a shade blacker; that the influence of modernism hadsupplanted the open chimney corner by a grate; that Rebekah, who hadworn a cap when she had plenty of hair, had left it off now she hadscarce any, because it was reported that caps were not fashionable;and that Sally's face had naturally assumed a more womanly andexperienced cast.

　　Mrs. Hall was actually lifting coals with the tongs, as she had usedto do.

　　'Five years ago this very night, if I am not mistaken--' she said,laying on an ember.

　　'Not this very night--though 'twas one night this week,' said thecorrect Sally.

　　'Well, 'tis near enough. Five years ago Mr. Darton came to marryyou, and my poor boy Phil came home to die.' She sighed. 'Ah,Sally,' she presently said, 'if you had managed well Mr. Dartonwould have had you, Helena or none.'

　　'Don't be sentimental about that, mother,' begged Sally. 'I didn'tcare to manage well in such a case. Though I liked him, I wasn't soanxious. I would never have married the man in the midst of such ahitch as that was,' she added with decision; 'and I don't think Iwould if he were to ask me now.'

　　'I am not sure about that, unless you have another in your eye.'

　　'I wouldn't; and I'll tell you why. I could hardly marry him forlove at this time o' day. And as we've quite enough to live on ifwe give up the dairy to-morrow, I should have no need to marry forany meaner reason . . . I am quite happy enough as I am, and there'san end of it.'

　　Now it was not long after this dialogue that there came a mild rapat the door, and in a moment there entered Rebekah, looking asthough a ghost had arrived. The fact was that that accomplishedskimmer and churner (now a resident in the house) had overheard thedesultory observations between mother and daughter, and on openingthe door to Mr. Darton thought the coincidence must have a grislymeaning in it. Mrs. Hall welcomed the farmer with warm surprise, asdid Sally, and for a moment they rather wanted words.

　　'Can you push up the chimney-crook for me, Mr Darton? the notcheshitch,' said the matron. He did it, and the homely little actbridged over the awkward consciousness that he had been a strangerfor four years.

　　Mrs. Hall soon saw what he had come for, and left the principalstogether while she went to prepare him a late tea, smiling atSally's recent hasty assertions of indifference, when she saw howcivil Sally was. When tea was ready she joined them. She fanciedthat Darton did not look so confident as when he had arrived; butSally was quite light-hearted, and the meal passed pleasantly.

　　About seven he took his leave of them. Mrs. Hall went as far as thedoor to light him down the slope. On the doorstep he said frankly--'I came to ask your daughter to marry me; chose the night andeverything, with an eye to a favourable answer. But she won't.'

　　'Then she's a very ungrateful girl!' emphatically said Mrs. Hall.

　　Darton paused to shape his sentence, and asked, 'I--I supposethere's nobody else more favoured?'

　　'I can't say that there is, or that there isn't,' answered Mrs.

　　Hall. 'She's private in some things. I'm on your side, however,Mr. Darton, and I'll talk to her.'

　　'Thank 'ee, thank 'ee!' said the farmer in a gayer accent; and withthis assurance the not very satisfactory visit came to an end.

　　Darton descended the roots of the sycamore, the light was withdrawn,and the door closed. At the bottom of the slope he nearly ranagainst a man about to ascend.

　　'Can a jack-o'-lent believe his few senses on such a dark night, orcan't he?' exclaimed one whose utterance Darton recognized in amoment, despite its unexpectedness. 'I dare not swear he can,though I fain would!' The speaker was Johns.

　　Darton said he was glad of this opportunity, bad as it was, ofputting an end to the silence of years, and asked the dairyman whathe was travelling that way for.

　　Japheth showed the old jovial confidence in a moment. 'I'm going tosee your--relations--as they always seem to me,' he said--'Mrs. Halland Sally. Well, Charles, the fact is I find the naturalbarbarousness of man is much increased by a bachelor life, and, asyour leavings were always good enough for me, I'm tryingcivilization here.' He nodded towards the house.

　　'Not with Sally--to marry her?' said Darton, feeling something likea rill of ice water between his shoulders.

　　'Yes, by the help of Providence and my personal charms. And I thinkI shall get her. I am this road every week--my present dairy isonly four miles off, you know, and I see her through the window.

　　'Tis rather odd that I was going to speak practical to-night to herfor the first time. You've just called?'

　　'Yes, for a short while. But she didn't say a word about you.'

　　'A good sign, a good sign. Now that decides me. I'll swing themallet and get her answer this very night as I planned.'

　　A few more remarks, and Darton, wishing his friend joy of Sally in aslightly hollow tone of jocularity, bade him good-bye. Johnspromised to write particulars, and ascended, and was lost in theshade of the house and tree. A rectangle of light appeared whenJohns was admitted, and all was dark again.

　　'Happy Japheth!' said Darton. 'This then is the explanation!'

　　He determined to return home that night. In a quarter of an hour hepassed out of the village, and the next day went about his swede-lifting and storing as if nothing had occurred.

　　He waited and waited to hear from Johns whether the wedding-day wasfixed: but no letter came. He learnt not a single particular till,meeting Johns one day at a horse-auction, Darton exclaimed genially--rather more genially than he felt--'When is the joyful day to be?'

　　To his great surprise a reciprocity of gladness was not conspicuousin Johns. 'Not at all,' he said, in a very subdued tone. ''Tis abad job; she won't have me.'

　　Darton held his breath till he said with treacherous solicitude,'Try again--'tis coyness.'

　　'O no,' said Johns decisively. 'There's been none of that. Wetalked it over dozens of times in the most fair an............