'Well, write it clear then, and put a line under it to show those

are my special words. Hast thee done it? Then now start afresh. I

give and bequeath my book o' sermons, as is bound in good calfskin,

and lies on the third shelf o' corner cupboard at the right hand o'

t' fire-place, to Philip Hepburn; for I reckon he's as fond o'

reading sermons as thee art o' light, well-boiled paste, and I'd be

glad for each on ye to have somewhat ye like for to remember me by.

Is that down? There; now for my cousins John and Jeremiah. They are

rich i' world's gear, but they'll prize what I leave 'em if I could

only onbethink me what they would like. Hearken! Is na' that our

Hester's step? Put it away, quick! I'm noane for grieving her wi'

telling her what I've been about. We'll take a turn at t' will next

First Day; it will serve us for several Sabbaths to come, and maybe

I can think on something as will suit cousin John and cousin

Jeremiah afore then.' Hester, as was mentioned, paused a minute or two before lifting the

latch of the door. When she entered there was no unusual sign of

writing about; only Will Coulson looking very red, and crushing and

smelling at the geranium leaf.

Hester came in briskly, with the little stock of enforced

cheerfulness she had stopped at the door to acquire. But it faded

away along with the faint flush of colour in her cheeks; and the

mother's quick eye immediately noted the wan heavy look of care.

'I have kept t' pot in t' oven; it'll have a'most got a' t' goodness

out of t' tea by now, for it'll be an hour since I made it. Poor

lass, thou look'st as if thou needed a good cup o' tea. It were dree

work sitting wi' Betsy Darley, were it? And how does she look on her

affliction?' 'She takes it sore to heart,' said Hester, taking off her hat, and

folding and smoothing away her cloak, before putting them in the

great oak chest (or 'ark,' as it was called), in which they were

laid from Sunday to Sunday.

As she opened the lid a sweet scent of dried lavender and

rose-leaves came out. William stepped hastily forwards to hold up

the heavy lid for her. She lifted up her head, looked at him full

with her serene eyes, and thanked him for his little service. Then

she took a creepie-stool and sate down on the side of the

fire-place, having her back to the window.

The hearth was of the same spotless whiteness as the steps; all that

was black about the grate was polished to the utmost extent; all

that was of brass, like the handle of the oven, was burnished

bright. Her mother placed the little black earthenware teapot, in

which the tea had been stewing, on the table, where cups and saucers

were already set for four, and a large plate of bread and butter

cut. Then they sate round the table, bowed their heads, and kept

silence for a minute or two.




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