she was forced to hire them out at journey-work to her
neighbours. Yet in these her poor circumstances she still preserved
the air and mien of a gentlewoman--a certain decent pride that extorted
respect from the haughtiest of her neighbours. When she came in to any
full assembly, she would not yield the pas to the best of them. If one
asked her, "Are not you related to John Bull?" "Yes," says she, "he
has the honour to be my brother." So Peg's affairs went till all the
relations cried out shame upon John for his barbarous usage of his own
flesh and blood; that it was an easy matter for him to put her in a
creditable way of living, not only without hurt, but with advantage to
himself, seeing she was an industrious person, and might be serviceable
to him in his way of business. "Hang her, jade," quoth John, "I can't
endure her as long as she keeps that rascal Jack's company." They told
him the way to reclaim her was to take her into his house; that by
conversation the childish humours of their younger days might be worn
out. These arguments were enforced by a certain incident. It happened
that John was at that time about making his will* and entailing his
estate, the very same in which Nic. Frog is named executor. Now, his
sister Peg's name being in the entail, he could not make a thorough
settlement without her consent. There was, indeed, a malicious story
went about as if John's last wife had fallen in love with Jack as he
was eating custard on horseback;** that she persuaded John to take his
sister into the house the better to drive on the intrigue with Jack,
concluding he would follow his mistress Peg. All I can infer from this
story is that when one has got a bad character in the world people will
report and believe anything of them, true or false. But to return to
my story. When Peg received John's message she huffed and stormed:
"My brother John," quoth she, "is grown wondrous kind-hearted all of
a sudden, but I meikle doubt whether it be not mair for their own
conveniency than for my good; he draws up his writs and his deeds,
forsooth, and I must set my hand to them, unsight, unseen. I like the
young man he has settled upon well enough, but I think I ought to have
a valuable consideration for my consent. He wants my poor little farm
because it makes a nook in his park-wall. Ye may e'en tell him he has
mair than he makes good use of; he gangs up and down drinking, roaring,
and quarrelling, through all the country ma