no call for thee to go nigh him after all he's done to thee."

"Nay, but he wants me; t' doctor says he mun have somebody to live wi'
him."

"If he wanted thee he'd coom an' seek thee, stubbornly answered Parfitt.

"He'll noan do that. I know Learoyd. He's ower proud to axe a favour
thro' anybody, let alone thro' me."

"Then he can dee in his pride. He's gotten shut o' thee for good an'
all, an' trodden thee i' t' muck, t' owd Jezebel."

"Nay, don't call him, Tom. Didn't chapel steward say that he was a
changed man sin' he took to goin' to t' chapil?"

This was almost the only serious dispute that had disturbed the even
tenor of their married life, and it ended in compromise. Mary was to go
to the farm, and if Learoyd needed her she was to stay for a month; at
the end of that time she would return home. Her husband's offer to
accompany her was declined. Instead, she asked him to pay a visit to the
doctor and inform him of her plan. The doctor heartily approved of all
that Mary Whittaker had taken upon herself to do; he said he would visit
his patient in the morning, and if all were going on well would take
away the nurse with him in his brougham. Then, as soon as possible after
their departure, Mary was to come to the farm and see Learoyd when he
was alone.

It was a bright April morning when Mary Whittaker set out on foot for
Fieldhead Farm. There had been rain the night before and the whole sky