The children looked at each other oddly. Then David, half afraid,
touched him.

'What's t' matter, 'Lias? Are yo bad?'

The old man did not move. They caught some disjointed words,
--'cold--ay, t' neet's cold, varra cold!'

''Lias!' shouted David.

'Lias looked up startled, and shook his head feebly.

'Are yo bad, 'Lias?'

'Ay!' said the old schoolmaster, in the voice of one speaking
through a dream--'ay, varra bad, varra cold--I mun--lig me down--a
bit.'

And he rose feebly. David instinctively caught hold of him, and led
him to a corner close by in the ruined walls, where the heather and
bilberry grew thick up to the stones. 'Lias sank down, his head fell
against the wall, and a light and restless sleep seemed to take
possession of him.

David stood studying him, his hands in his pockets. Never in all
his experience of him had 'Lias gone through such a performance as
this. What on earth did it mean? There was more in it than
appeared, clearly. He would tell Margaret, 'Lias's old wife, who
kept him and tended him like the apple of her eye. And he would