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166 the light had become very dim, even on the whitewashed lower walls; while the great timbered roof overhead was now in pitchy blackness.

There was a silence when Ben and Ann were alone together, after he had gone to the door and slammed it. Then she began to hum softly to herself.

"What art a-singing for?" asked Ben, gruffly.

"To keep up my spirits maybe," returned she, saucily.

"Thou didst not need for to keep up thy spirits till latterly; they was allus up," said Ben. "What's come to thee these last days? Is't since what happened t'other day that thou'rt so down in the mouth? Is't that thou wouldst like to be even with them that's done thee so ill a turn—eh, lass?"

"Ay, that would I," answered Ann, savagely. "I do thirst to pay back as good as I've been given. I'm none of your soft ones, as you know, Ben."

"Odso, Oi don't know it? It's why Oi loike thee, Ann. Give me a lass, says Oi, as can deal you a blow with her fist if she's a mind, loike