Mrs. Bolton's countenance was glowing with pleasure. "I always heard that she was a neighbourly, good woman," added Mrs. Bolton. "I don't think much of her husband," returned Mr. Bolton, coldly, as he passed from the room after pausing there for only a moment. He could not look at the lumps of golden butter and the pitcher of cream without feeling rebuked, and so he got away as quickly as possible. "Have you done as I directed?" said Mr. Bolton, with knit brows, on meeting Ben, some time afterwards, returning from the part of the farm where he had left him. "Yes, sir," was the answer of Ben. "What did you do with the gate?" "I threw it into the field, as you told me." "You didn't break it?" "No, sir." "Very well." "There'll be trouble, Mr. Bolton," said Ben. "How do you know?" "Mr. Halpin's a very determined man." "So am I," replied Mr. Bolton. "Mr. Dix says the right of way belongs to Mr. Halpin, and no mistake." "When did he say so?" "Just now. He came down from his house, when he saw me at work, and asked what I was doing; and when I told him, he said you were wrong, and would only get yourself into trouble; that Mr. Halpin's farm had the right of way through yours." "Tell Mr. Dix, when you see him again, not to meddle in my affairs," replied Mr. Bolton. "I am entirely competent to manage them myself; I want no assistance." As Mr. Bolton turned from Ben, on uttering this speech, he saw Mr.