that God-forsaken son of mine: you'll be givin' evidence agen him,
I'm told--"

When his sleeve wiped a tear, Hogarth promised to make his evidence
mild, and was left alone.

Now his purpose of cleaning the rifle was turned: he went back to
the forge, and worked till Margaret, at one o'clock, called: "The
dinner is on the table".

At that table, for a long time, silence reigned, Margaret's eyes
fixed on his face, his on his plate.

Toward the end he said: "Are you going to chapel to-night?"

Her bosom heaved; she cleared her throat: she had to meet Frankl by
the towing-path.

"I don't think I shall..."

_Margaret!_

"Why not?"

"I have something to do".

"_What?_"

Silence.