"Where's the cheild?" she asked.

"I set'n to gather bullock's glows for th' fire--we shall want more'n
furze for to-night," replied Archelaus. "Give I a light to take
overstairs; 'tes time I was cleanen' of myself. I'm gwain to run with
the Neck to-night."

Annie went obediently to a cupboard and took out a little cup of oil in
which a wick lay, the tongue of it drooping over the cup's rim. She lit
it with a twig from the fire and stood looking at Archelaus for a moment
with the cup in her hand. The footlight effect softened her
prominently-boned face and struck some of the over-strong colour from
her cheeks--she showed a faint hint of the prettiness that had attracted
the old Squire.

"An' who is it you'm thinken' will be at the door for 'ee to kiss when
you get in wi' the Neck?" she asked grimly.

Archelaus shuffled from one big foot to the other.

"Jenifer Keast, maybe?" pursued his mother.

"Happen Jenifer, happen another. A maid's a maid," mumbled the
disconcerted Archelaus.

Tom put his boots on the settle and stood up.

"It makes me sick to hear you, Archelaus," he declared slowly, but with
extraordinary venom for a boy of fifteen; "Jenifer Keast! Have you no