she did not see Learoyd he was never long out of her mind, and through
her husband and children she kept herself informed of what was going on
at the farm.

After his shameless traffic in the Holmton market-place Learoyd had for
some months lived alone. Never a sociable man, he shunned the society of
the neighbouring farmers, and they, on their side, resenting his
outrageous conduct to his stepdaughter, studiously kept out of his way.
Doggedly he set himself to do both the labours of the house and farm,
and sought to stifle in hard work the memory of his wife's desertion of
him, together with whatever twinges of remorse may have come to him when
he thought of the revenge which he had taken upon her daughter. But as
time went on he found it impossible to attend to all his duties. Nothing
could induce him to enlist the services of a housekeeper, but he engaged
a man, who occupied a two-roomed cottage a hundred yards away from the
farm, and helped him in stable and field. But the sullen humour of
Learoyd was hard to put up with, and the men who came to him soon sought
employment elsewhere. He would engage a servant for the year at the
Martinmas hiring, but as soon as the year was up the man would leave,
and it became increasingly difficult for the farmer to find a
substitute.

"What mak o' a gaffer is Learoyd?" one labourer would ask of another as
they stood together in the Holmton market-place waiting to be hired.

"A dowly, harden-faced mon, an' gey hard to bide wi', accordin' to what
all t' day-tale men is sayin'," replied the other.

"He looks it," answered the first. "He's gotten a face that's like beer
when t' thunder has turned it to allicker. If I was to live wi' him I'd