The landlady, for her part, appeared to be troubled in no such fashion by his appearance. She nodded—somewhat curtly, he thought—and evidently saw in him merely the idle Dandy Chater she had been in the habit of seeing almost daily for years past. Recognising the importance of keeping a steady hand upon his emotions, Philip Crowdy nodded in reply, and approached, and leaned over the bar.

“Afternoon, Master Dandy,” said the woman, fixing her eyes again on her work. Yet how familiar her voice was in his ears—and how he longed to jump over the bar, and take her portly person in his arms!

“Good-afternoon,” he responded. “And I wonder,” he thought—“what your name is now!”

There was a long pause; and then, in sheer self-defence, he ordered something to drink, adding, at the same time—“It’s so deadly dull up at the Hall, that I thought I’d look down to see you.” He stopped lamely, wondering if she expected him to say anything else.

“Very kind of yer, Master Dandy,” she retorted quickly, flashing her black eyes at him for a moment, as she set his glass before him. “Wouldn’t yer like to step into the parlour, Master Dandy?” she added. There was no graciousness about the speech, and she was evidently in a bad humour.

“Thanks—I think I shall do very well here,” replied Crowdy. “And, if you only knew, old Betty, whose eyes are looking at that dear old grey head of yours, at this moment, I think you’d jump out of your skin.” This latter, it is scarcely necessary to add, passed through his thoughts only, and not his lips.

Presently, to his astonishment, the old woman, after making several false starts, got up quickly, and came round the bar, and faced him; he saw that there was some extraordinary excitement upon her; he could hear one foot nervously beating the ground.

“Master Dandy,” she said, in a voice little above a whisper—“I must speak to you!”

On the instant, the man felt that she had made some discovery—that she knew he was not Dandy Chater. But, the next moment, he saw that this was a matter which had been consuming her for some time, and had now boiled up, as it were, and could be held no longer—some grievance which she imagined she had against Dandy Chater. Knowing that he had a part to play, he spoke lightly and easily.

“Well—I’m here; speak to me, by all means,” he said, with a little laugh.

“Not 

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