remember very well how, when I was very young, I used to go to the
milking, look on at the skimming, sleep through the churning, and
make believe I helped her. Ah, that was a happy time enough!'

'No, never--not happy.'

'Yes, it was.'

'I don't see how happiness could be where the drudgery of dairy-
work had to be done for a living--the hands red and chapped, and
the shoes clogged....Stephen, I do own that it seems odd to regard
you in the light of--of--having been so rough in your youth, and
done menial things of that kind.' (Stephen withdrew an inch or two
from her side.) 'But I DO LOVE YOU just the same,' she continued,
getting closer under his shoulder again, 'and I don't care
anything about the past; and I see that you are all the worthier
for having pushed on in the world in such a way.'

'It is not my worthiness; it is Knight's, who pushed me.'

'Ah, always he--always he!'

'Yes, and properly so. Now, Elfride, you see the reason of his
teaching me by letter. I knew him years before he went to Oxford,
but I had not got far enough in my reading for him to entertain
the idea of helping me in classics till he left home. Then I was
sent away from the village, and we very seldom met; but he kept up
this system of tuition by correspondence with the greatest
regularity. I will tell you all the story, but not now. There is
nothing more to say now, beyond giving places, persons, and