.

"FOOL, DO NOT FLATTER.".
When Mrs.Garth reached home, after her interview with Rotha in the road, there was a velvety softness in her manner as of one who had a sense of smooth satisfaction with herself and her surroundings.
The blacksmith, who was working at a little bench which he had set up in the kitchen, was also in a mood of more than usual cheerfulness.
"Ey, he's caught--as good as caught," said Mrs.Garth.
Her son laughed, but there was the note of forced merriment in his voice.
"Where do they say he is--Lancaster ?" "That's it, not a doubt on't." "Were they sure of him--the man at Lancaster ?" "No, but _I_ were when they telt me what mak of man it was." The blacksmith laughed again over a chisel which he was tempering.
"It's nothing to me, is it, mother ?" "Nowt in the warld, Joey, ma lad." "They are after him for a traitor, but I cannot see as it's anything to me what they do with him when they catch hod on him; it's nothing to me, is it, mother ?" "Nowt." Garth chuckled audibly.

Then in a low tone he added,-- "Nor nothing to me what comes of his kin afterwards." He paused in his work; his manner changed; he turned to where Mrs.
Garth was coiled up before the fire.
"Had _he_ any kin, mother ?" Mrs.Garth glanced quickly up at her son.
"A brother, na mair." "What sort of a man, mother ?" "The spit of hissel'." "Seen anything of him ?" "Not for twenty year." "Nor want to neither ?" Mrs.Garth curled her lip..