With that he turned and left Arthur where he stood—a little relieved, though now annoyed as well that a man in his employment should not have waited to be dismissed.

Richard walked to the smithy as quickly as he could. There he found his grandfather just taking off his apron to go for a cup of tea.

“Oh, there you are!” he said. “I thought we should be catching sight of you before long!”

“How is Alice, grandfather?”

“She’s been asleep all day—the best thing for her!”

“I hope, grandfather,” said Richard, for Simon’s tone troubled him a little, “that you are not angry with me. I assure you I had nothing to do with her coming here from London—that I know of. You would not have had me leave her sitting there, out in the cold all night?”

“God forbid, lad! If you thought me out of temper with you, it was a mistake. I confess the thing does bother me, but I’m not blaming you. You acted like a Christian.”

Richard hardly relished the mode of his grandfather’s praise. A man ought to do the right thing because he was a man, not because he was something other than a man! He did not yet know that a man and a Christian are precisely and entirely the same thing, that a being who is not a Christian is not a man. No one, however strong he may feel his obligations, will ever be man enough to fulfil them except he be a Christian—that is, one who, like Christ, cares first for the will of the Father.

Simon and his grandson had not yet turned the corner toward the cottage when Richard heard a snort he knew. There, sure enough, stood Miss Brown, hitched to the garden-paling, peaceable but impatient.

“Miss Wylder is here!” said Richard.

“Yes, lad! She has been here more than an hour. Jessie came and told me, but I knew it. I heard the mare and knew the sound of my own shoes on her. She’s a fine creature.”

“Yes, she’s a good mare.”

“I don’t mean the mare. I mean the mistress!”

“Miss Wylder is a noble girl,” said Richard. “But I’m afraid she got into trouble last night helping me.”

“It doesn’t sound much like it,” returned the old man, as Barbara’s musical laugh came from the cottage. “Alice must be doing well or she wouldn’t be laughing like that.”

As they entered, Barbara came gliding down the stairs in front of them, her face still radiant with the reminder of the laugh they had heard.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Armour,” she said. “I didn’t expect to see you so soon again, Mr. Tuke. Will you please put me up?”