father. He had come over the fells with a party, and he looked very
much bored with his company."

"I shouldn't wonder if he were. He likes his own company best. He is a
great man now, but I remember well when people thought he was just a
little off-at-side. You knew Nancy Butterworth, mother?"

"Certainly I did, squire. She lived near Rydal."

"Yes. Nancy wasn't very bright herself. A stranger once asked her what
Mr. Wordsworth was like; and she said, 'He's canny enough at times.
Mostly he's wandering up and down t' hills, talking his po-et-ry; but
now and then he'll say, "How do ye do, Nancy?" as sensible as you or
me.'"

"Mr. Wordsworth speaks foolishness to a great many people besides Nancy
Butterworth," said Sophia warmly; "but he is a great poet and a great
seer to those who can understand him."

"Well, well, Mr. Wordsworth is neither here nor there in our affairs.
We'll go up to Latriggs in the afternoon, Charlotte. I'll be ready at
two o'clock."

"And I, also, father." Her face was flushed and thoughtful, and she had
become suddenly quiet. The squire glanced at her, but without curiosity;
he only thought, "What a pity she is a lass! I wish Harry had her good
sense and her good heart; I do that."