and you was to keep up your sperrits and let her know by me if any one was a-wexin' you."
"No, no. Not at all," Kate answered, smiling again. "You can tell her that my guardian has been much kinder to-day. I am full of hope now. Give her my warmest thanks for her kindness."
"All right, miss. Say, that chap at the gate hasn't been giving you no cheek has he—him with the game eye?"
"No, no, John."
John looked at her suspiciously. "If he hasn't, it's all right," he said; "but I think as you're one of them as don't complain if you can 'elp it." He opened his hand and showed a great jagged flint which he carried. "I'd ha' knocked his other peeper out with this," he said, "blowed if I wouldn't!"
"Don't do anything of the sort, John, but run home like a good little boy."
"All right, miss. Good-bye to ye!"
Kate watched him stroll down the lane. He paused at the bottom as if irresolute, and then she was relieved to see him throw the stone over into a turnip field, and walk rapidly off in the opposite direction to the Priory gates.
CHAPTER XLII.
THE THREE FACES AT THE WINDOW.
Late in the afternoon Ezra arrived at the Priory. From one of the passage windows Kate saw him driving up the avenue in a high dog-cart. There was a broad-shouldered, red-bearded man sitting beside him, and the ostler from the "Flying Bull" was perched behind. Kate had rushed to the window on hearing the sound of wheels, with some dim expectation that her friends had come sooner than she anticipated. A glance, however, showed her that the hope was vain. From behind a curtain she watched them alight and
