RINA CLIFFE. CHAPTER I. THE CLOSED CASEMENT. "Sweet bird, Thou comest to me when no others come; "Tis hope that makes thee on my casement stand, "LIFT up the latch and walk in," said a gruff voice, fit to belong to Little Red Riding Hood's grandmother in disguise. Linda Conway gave a quick, half regretful glance towards the narrow field-path over Farheath Common which led to the parish church of Hazelmere, and beyond that to the Rectory; but it was too late to act upon her inclination to return there. "Lift up the latch, I say. I can't be waiting upon all the folks that come to my door at this time of day. Pull the string; what else is it for ?" Linda's dainty fingers tried in vain to reach the missing cord, it had slipped too far away; the latch was safely guarded. She knocked again, and this time the clattering sound of pattens, followed by the loud slam of an inner door, answered her; presently Rina Cliffe stood in the doorway, less ready with a welcome than with a torrent of words, half intended for her visitor, and as much for a wild-looking cat which had chosen that moment to spring on the oak dresser, where lay, as a tempting prize, a glistening red-finned perch fresh from the Mill Brook. Linda Conway saw at once there was no mistake as to the mood in which she had found Rina: it was expressed in every feature and every tone of her angry voice as she exclaimed, "Do come in! Get out, you thieving, good-fornothing thing! Oh, it's you is it, ma'am! I thought it was Master Norman come for his loaf. This cat is enough to plague the life out of me; Joan Price keeps it half-fed for nothing else but to tease me. There isn't a thing that's safe from such a thief-no, not that shelf by the ceiling. Joan has owed me for bread I get from her is vexation, this-wait for that, till since harvest, and all worry, and-wait for Upon my word, if |