"Very well, ma'am," said Jim, staring from her to his uncle.

"And happy too?"

"Yes, ma'am, I thank you."

"Nothing that you crave for?"

"Why, no, ma'am, I have all that I lack."

"That will do, Jim," said his uncle, in a stern voice. "Blow up the
forge again, for that shoe wants reheating."

But it seemed as if the woman had something else that she would say,
for she was angry that he should be sent away. Her eyes gleamed,
and her head tossed, while the smith with his two big hands
outspread seemed to be soothing her as best he could. For a long
time they whispered until at last she appeared to be satisfied.

"To-morrow, then?" she cried loud out.

"To-morrow," he answered.

"You keep your word and I'll keep mine," said she, and dropped the
lash on the pony's back. The smith stood with the rasp in his hand,
looking after her until she was just a little red spot on the white
road. Then he turned, and I never saw his face so grave.

"Jim," said he, "that's Miss Hinton, who has come to live at The
Maples, out Anstey Cross way. She's taken a kind of a fancy to you,