'Yes! I tell mother that wi' so many as she has, she ought to be

thankful to t' one as gets off quickest.' 'Who? which is it?' asked Sylvia, a little eagerly, seeing that

there was news of a wedding behind the talk.

'Why! who should it be but me?' said Molly, laughing a good deal,

and reddening a little. 'I've not gone fra' home for nought; I'se

picked up a measter on my travels, leastways one as is to be.' 'Charley Kinraid,' said Sylvia smiling, as she found that now she

might reveal Molly's secret, which hitherto she had kept sacred.

'Charley Kinraid be hung!' said Molly, with a toss of her head.

'Whatten good's a husband who's at sea half t' year? Ha ha, my

measter is a canny Newcassel shopkeeper, on t' Side. A reckon a've

done pretty well for mysel', and a'll wish yo' as good luck, Sylvia.

For yo' see,' (turning to Bell Robson, who, perhaps, she thought

would more appreciate the substantial advantages of her engagement

than Sylvia,) 'though Measter Brunton is near upon forty if he's a

day, yet he turns over a matter of two hundred pound every year; an

he's a good-looking man of his years too, an' a kind, good-tempered

feller int' t' bargain. He's been married once, to be sure; but his

childer are dead a' 'cept one; an' I don't mislike childer either;

an' a'll feed 'em well, an' get 'em to bed early, out o' t' road.' Mrs. Robson gave her her grave good wishes; but Sylvia was silent.

She was disappointed; it was a coming down from the romance with the

specksioneer for its hero. Molly laughed awkwardly, understanding

Sylvia's thoughts better than the latter imagined.

'Sylvia's noane so well pleased. Why, lass! it's a' t' better for

thee. There's Charley to t' fore now, which if a'd married him, he'd

not ha' been; and he's said more nor once what a pretty lass yo'd

grow into by-and-by.' Molly's prosperity was giving her an independence and fearlessness

of talk such as had seldom appeared hitherto; and certainly never

before Mrs. Robson. Sylvia was annoyed at Molly's whole tone and

manner, which were loud, laughing, and boisterous; but to her mother

they were positively repugnant. She said shortly and gravely,-'Sylvia's none so set upo' matrimony; she's content to bide wi' me

and her father. Let a be such talking, it's not i' my way.' Molly was a little subdued; but still her elation at the prospect of

being so well married kept cropping out of all the other subjects

which were introduced; and when she went away, Mrs. Robson broke out

in an unwonted strain of depreciation.

'That's the way wi' some lasses. They're like a cock on a dunghill,

when they've teased a silly chap into wedding 'em. It's

cock-a-doodle-do, I've cotched a husband, cock-a-doodle-doo, wi'

'em. I've no patience wi' such like; I beg, Sylvie, thou'lt not get

too thick wi' Molly. She's not pretty behaved, making such an ado

about men-kind, as if they were two-headed calves to be run after.' 'But Molly's a good-hearted lass, mother. Only I never dreamt but

what she was troth-plighted wi' Charley Kinraid,' said Sylvia,

meditatively.




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