"There, Jim!" said she; "does that satisfy you? It's long since any
one cared whether I drank or no."

"You are too good and kind for that," said he.

"Good!" she cried. "Well, I love that you should think me so. And
it would make you happier if I kept from the brandy, Jim? Well,
then, I'll make you a promise, if you'll make me one in return."

"What's that, miss?"

"No drop shall pass my lips, Jim, if you will swear, wet or shine,
blow or snow, to come up here twice in every week, that I may see
you and speak with you, for, indeed, there are times when I am very
lonesome."

So the promise was made, and very faithfully did Jim keep it, for
many a time when I have wanted him to go fishing or rabbit-snaring,
he has remembered that it was his day for Miss Hinton, and has
tramped off to Anstey Cross. At first I think that she found her
share of the bargain hard to keep, and I have seen Jim come back
with a black face on him, as if things were going amiss. But after
a time the fight was won--as all fights are won if one does but
fight long enough--and in the year before my father came back Miss
Hinton had become another woman. And it was not her ways only, but
herself as well, for from being the person that I have described,
she became in one twelve-month as fine a looking lady as there was
in the whole country-side. Jim was prouder of it by far than of
anything he had had a hand in in his life, but it was only to me
that he ever spoke about it, for he had that tenderness towards her