CHAPTER IV.

Neville rose the next morning, had a wash in the river, and resumed work in the hole which yesterday he had said “Good-by” to as he thought forever. When he went in to see if any breakfast happened to be about he found Sylvia making the coffee, and old mother Meth “tidying up,” but looking over her shoulder now and again at the slim, girlish figure in a kind of wonderment. Sylvia glanced round at him with her large expressive eyes as he entered, but she said nothing, and proceeded to lay the breakfast of cold pork,…