I was glad I had not shirked Evening Prayer myself, though (my sex and
age considered) it was not to be expected that I should comfort my
mother's heart by confessing as much. Let me confess it now, and confess
also that if it was the first time, it was not the last that I have had
cause to realize--oh women, for our sakes remember it!--into what light
and gentle hands GOD lays the reins that guide men's better selves.

* * * * *

The most remarkable event of the day happened at the end of it. Whilst
Isaac was feeling the weight of one of his hives, and just after I lost
chase of a very peculiar-looking beetle, from his squeezing himself away
from me under a boulder, I had caught sight of a bit of white heather,
and then bethought me of gathering a nosegay (to include this rarity) of
moor flowers and grasses for Mrs. Wood. So when we reached the lane on
our way home, I bade Isaac good-night, and said I would just run in by
the back way into the farm (we never called it the Academy) and leave
the flowers, that the school-mistress might put them in water. Mary Anne
was in the kitchen.

"Where's Mrs. Wood?" said I, when she had got over that silly squeak
women always give when you come suddenly on them.

"Dear, dear, Master Jack! what a turn you did give me! I thought it was
the tramp."

"What tramp?" said I.

"Why, a great lanky man that came skulking here a bit since, and asked