The Ozark spectator., 1917-01-03
CHAPTER II-Continued.

DdNlu lOOkeu up QulChly ut HIS questioner. She was younger than he, and pretty and freckled; and when she wrinkled up her nose as she asked the question, David could not \ forbear smiling. In spite of the mo- Amentary smile, the utter hopelessness that returned to his cavernous eyes almost frightened her. She felt as though she had unwittingly knocked at the door of a house that hid tragedy, and she was on the verge of dismayed retreat. But under the funny little nose there was a kind little mouth and square little chin; so she drew in her breath. and ran up all her colors.
 1.-TWO pound ten a yard"
 "It's dollars not pounds here, you know" she chided. You're English, aren't you?"
 7 His smile was frankly bitter now. "Fm done with England" he flashed back.
 "A Yankee then?" even more in credulously.
 'Yes, thank God!" he burst forth.
 She hastened to remove the impli- cation of scorn in her words.
 "Well, I suppose we'll be, too-fa- ssher and I. We just arrived at Cory don this morning. But I'm not thank ing God especially for the prospect" His silence seemed to disconcert her. She may have been conscious of something in her that imagined a rebuke he did not intend. She bit her lip and threw q backward glance. "Three cheers for the president !" The candor in her eyes lent sheer ity to her words. She turned and beckoned to her father, who was chat ting at the door. He seemed to be used to her humors. for he came for ward indulgently with, "Well, daugh- ter?"
 He had the broad, red face of q prosperous British farmer, a ruddy disk in which you might discern no sun-spot of guile. Heartiness radi- ated from him as from the maturing sun. His shrewd little eyes looked on David with sv honest kindliness that David gave him instant trust. A strange thing. for David knew 1t was the farmers of England whose flour made the threepenny loaves whose price had made the weavers go hun gry.
 Father, want you to'-she turned winsomely to the young storekeeper- 'What Is your name?"
 The young man surrendered. "Da- vid Larrence."
 ''This is my father, Mir. Job Cran- mer. My name is Lydia, and I'm his only daughter and he does what tell him to, don't you, father?' And she gave him tug at his elbow.
 The name Lydia instantly became for David one of those on the calen- dar.
 ''Your daughter is very kind, Mir. Cranmer."
 The girl hastened to impart the one piece of information she had gleaned about her cOuntryman.
 'He says he is going to live here." "A fine country. this. young man." approved MT. Cranmer heartily. 'I mean to settle here myself. They tell me land is as cheap here on the will derness border as coals in Newcastle I'm q farming man."
 "You're no farmer?" haZarded the girl to David.
 "No-I was weaver"
 "Oh!" said Cranmer comprehend ing. then it hasn't been all skittles with you. hey, young man?"
 A wave of dark red swept over Da- vids face and he seemed unable to answer.
 Nottingham way, maybe?" pursued his questioner.
 "Yes," he assented, and choked over the word.
 'Your people have been hard trod- den, haven't they?" pressed Cranmer kindly.
 "Oh, do not mind me of 1t !" broke from David's lips. He bowed his head to hide the tears he could not control. Lydia turned to her father for ex- planation.
 Likely this young man suffered with the Luddites," he remarked.
 'Tell us," whispered Lydia, i've are sorry"
 "Ay, d-n England" clustered Cranmer, without an apology for the oath.
 David looked at the man intently. There was something about him that reused question.
 Nottingham market place is fair sight" observed the farmer.
 You've been therer'
 "Ay, one Whit-Monday feast"
 "Clifton groves were green then" cried Lydia eagerly.
 There was blood on the parade at , Martinmas two years ago." David burst forths fire smoldering in his eye. "Om people gathered first at market goose air In October; maybe 1t was the D. uty we saw there then that made " wild. My father and my brother and had eaten but one meal ua~