awe which mingled itself with her idolatrous love of Adam.

But Seth, with an anxious look, had passed into the workshop, and said,
"Addy, how's this? What! Father's forgot the coffin?"

"Ay, lad, th' old tale; but I shall get it done," said Adam, looking up.
"Why, what's the matter with thee--thee'st in trouble?"

Seth's eyes were red, and there was a look of deep depression on his
mild face.

"Yes, Addy, but it's what must be borne, and can't be helped. Let me
take my turn now, and do thee go to bed."

"No, lad; I'd rather go on, now I'm in harness. The coffin's promised to
be ready at Brox'on by seven o'clock to-morrow morning. I'll call thee
up at sunrise, to help me to carry it when it's done. Go and eat thy
supper and shut the door, so as I mayn't hear mother's talk."

Adam worked throughout the night, thinking of his childhood and its
happy days, and then of the days of sadness that came later when his
father began to loiter at public-houses, and Lisbeth began to cry at
home. He remembered well the night of shame and anguish when he first
saw his father quite wild and foolish.

The two brothers set off in the early sunlight, carrying the long coffin
on their shoulders. By six o'clock they had reached Broxton, and were on
their way home.

When they were coming across the valley, and had entered the pasture