hear him coming now. Sit still! To please me, my dear, sit still where
ye are."

[Illustration: "SHE BENT IN REAL DISTRESS OVER THE CURRANTS."]

Hilda obeyed, though her heart beat painfully; and she bent in real
distress over the currants as Farmer Hartley once more entered the room.
She hardly knew what she feared or expected; but her relief was great
when he bade her a quiet but cheerful "Good-day!" and crossing the
room, sat down in his great leather arm-chair.

"Dinner'll be ready in five minutes, Jacob!" said the good dame,
cheerily; "I've only to lay the table and dish the mutton."

"Oh! let me help," cried Hilda, springing up and setting her bowl of
currants on the window-sill.

So between the two the snowy cloth was laid, and the blue plates and the
shining knives and forks laid out. Then they all sat down, and the
little maid-servant came too, and took her place at the end of the
table; and presently in came a great loutish-looking fellow, about one
or two and twenty, with a great shock of sandy hair and little
ferret-eyes set too near together, whom Dame Hartley introduced as her
nephew. He sat down too, and ate more than all the rest of them put
together. At sight of this man, who gobbled his food noisily, and
uttered loud snorts between the mouthfuls, the old Hilda awoke in full
force. She could _not_ endure this; mamma never could have intended it!
The Hartleys were different, of course. She was willing to acknowledge
that she had been in the wrong about them; but this lout, this oaf, this
villainous-looking churl,--to expect a lady to sit at the same table