You are not to think that she saw all these things at the first glance; far from it.

There was something else in the room which claimed the immediate attention of our heroine, and that was a square oak table, shining like a mirror, and covered with good things,--cold chicken, eggs and bacon, golden butter and honey, a great brown loaf on a wonderful carved wooden platter, delicate rolls piled high on a shallow blue dish, and a portly glass jug filled with rich, creamy milk.

Here was a pleasant sight for a hungry heroine of fifteen! But alas! at the head of this inviting table sat Farmer Hartley, the "odious savage," in his rough homespun coat, with his hair still very far from smooth (though indeed he had brushed it, and the broad, horny hands were scrupulously clean).

With a slight shudder Hilda took the seat which Dame Hartley offered her.
"Well, Huldy," said the farmer, looking up from his eggs and bacon with a cheery smile, "here ye be, eh?
Rested after yer journey, be ye ?" "Yes, thank you!" said Hilda, coldly.
"Have some chick'n!" he continued, putting nearly half a chicken on her plate.

"An' a leetle bacon, jes' ter liven it up, hey?
That's right! It's my idee thet most everythin' 's the better for a bit o' bacon, unless it's soft custard.