Fancy the teacher takin' weppins betwixt and between!" "It's fitter work for the teacher than for one of his scholars, and a young lady at that," said Mr.Ford gravely, as he took the rifle from the hands of the half-amused, half-reluctant girl.

"It's quite safe with me, and I promise I shall deliver it into Mr.McKinstry's hands and none other." "Perhaps it wouldn't be ez likely to be gin'rally noticed ez it would if one of US carried it," murmured Mrs.McKinstry in confidential abstraction, gazing at her daughter sublimely unconscious of the presence of a third party.
"You're quite right," said the master composedly, throwing the rifle over his shoulder and turning towards the door.

"So I'll say good-afternoon, and try and find your husband." Mrs.McKinstry constrainedly plucked at the folds of her coarse gown.
"Ye'll like a drink afore ye go," she said, in an ill-concealed tone of relief.

"I clean forgot my manners.

Cressy, fetch out that demijohn." "Not for me, thank you," returned Mr.Ford smiling.
"Oh, I see--you're temperance, nat'rally," said Mrs.McKinstry with a tolerant sigh.
"Hardly that," returned the master, "I follow no rule, I drink sometimes--but not to-day." Mrs.McKinstry's dark face contracted.