The San Francisco call., 1896-12-25

pale, and his hands shook as he held them
to the fire.
There was a moments silence. Then
one of the men spoke.
'sYou be from the south, surely, mas
ter?"
'.Why so?" said the stranger sharply.
because you be so weakly like. We
folk i the north don't feel the cold like
that"
Weakly ~ cried the stranger, suddenly
sitting erect and throwing his long wet
hair back from his CHASTITY face. There
was fierce gleam in his eyes. ssYou're
the first man that has ever said So" He
sprang to his feet, squared his shoulders
and clenched his frsts. "Come on, every
man of you. You shall feel whether I'm
weakly or not. Pve fought half dozen
men. one after the other. ten times
stronger than any of you. I'm not afraid
of you."
Then he dropped back into his chair
and painted for breath. The short gasps
made painful commentary on his war
like words.
STEADY, lad" said the landlord at last.
see. Have drop o. summat to drink, and
don't quarrel VII peaceable folk like US. 4"
Receiving no answer, ne fetched tum-
bier of strong brandy and water and set it
beside the stranger, who turned peevishly
away from him and relapsed into his bend
ing position with his elbows on his knees
and his hands over his face. Seeing that
he did not intend to speak, the company
began to exchange remarks among them
selves on various topics, partly from love
of gossip in general, and partly from a
feeling of delicacy which suggested that
the stranger would feel more comforta BILE
if he were not noticed. They were not
quick enough to observe that he grad
ually changed his position a little, and
lowered his hands so as 10 hear better the
conversation that went on. 1t would not
have occurred to them that he was likely
to take any interest in their talk about
local things and local people.
III see the Squolre to-day" said one of
them, putting great cloud from his pine,
''and he say to me. 1T be goin' to be a
white Christmas, Giles. Thee nun look
after the beasts, says he.''
"Ay, Squoire be main takken up VII
his beasts" said another voice, s'but it
moight be better il he thought less o.
them an moor of his oan foalk."
Don't he think of his own folk, then ?n
piped shriller voice. 1t was that of a
young man newly come to the place, who
sometimes betrayed what his compeers
thoughta shocking ignorance of the ira
ditions of the neighborhood.
"Why, surely tina knows. Simon Com
bermere," said one of the older men very
slowly, that Squoire and his daughter
don't scarce speak. although they live i
the same house and has their meals at
same table2"
"Ehl you don't say so. And how's
that?" inquired the younger man.
''Miss Epnor married against her fey-
theirs willard that's TIL long an short
o. the NATTER said his informant. "a
harum -scarum, good for-nought chap by
all I've heer1, an went off to Ameriky
with her"
"Then he's dead. reckon?" said the
newcomer.
"Doan't go so fast, young man. Dead
l lay 'twould be a good thing If he was
dead. Didn't Miss El'nor come back VII
two bon2y children of her own, her man
having run off an deserted her in Amer
ky? That's what it was; deserted her, he
did, the ill-doing rogue, and left her to
addle her bread for hersen."
The strang in the chair before the fire
stirred uneasily; it seemed almost as
though he. too, wanted to ask question.
But the shrill-voiced young man broke in
before him, and he once more dropped his
face upon his hands.
"Did the Squire let his own daughter
work for her bread, then? Eli, but don't
wonder that you say he don't care for his
own folk"
''Tha goes so fast, Simon Com bermere, !"
said CATER Jones peevishiy. 81 doubt but
thy feet isn't so nimble as thy wits, by all
accounts. Hold tha tongue for Bit and
all tell tha. Squoire didn't knaw nought
of what his daughter doing till she COON
to the hall WI the two children, one in
her arm, an one olinging on to heT gown.
My boy was gardener at the time, and he
see her come. Many's the time he's towd
mech, neighbors?"