e parlour, where
there was a complete set of velvet-covered chairs, a sofa, a piano, a
photograph-book, and a great number of anti-macassars and mats. All
these elegances were not enough to make him give up his warm corner in
the settle, where he could stretch out his legs at his ease and smoke
his pipe. Mrs Greenways herself, though she was proud of her parlour,
secretly preferred the kitchen, as being more handy and comfortable, so
that except on great occasions the parlour was left in chilly
loneliness. When Peter entered there were only his mother and Bella in
the room. The latter stood at the table with a puzzled frown on her
brow, and a large pair of scissors in her hand; before her were spread
paper patterns, fashion-books, and some pieces of black velveteen, which
she was eyeing doubtfully, and, placing in different ways so that it
might be cut to the best advantage. Bella was considered a fine young
woman. She had a large frame like all the Greenways, and nature had
given her a waist in proportion to it. She had, however, fought against
nature and conquered, for her figure now resembled an hour-glass--very
wide at the top, and suddenly very small in the middle. Like Agnetta
she had a great deal of colour, frizzy black hair, and a good-natured
expression, but her face was just now clouded by some evident vexation.

"Lor', Bella," said her mother, turning round from the hearth, "put away
them fal-lals--do. Here's Peter wanting his tea, and your father'll be
along from market directly." Bella did not answer, partly because her
mouth was full of pins, and Mrs Greenways continued: "You might hurry
and get the tea laid just for once. I'm clean tired out."

"Where's Molly?" muttered Bella indistinctly.

"Molly indeed!" exclaimed her mother impatiently. "It's Molly here and
Molly there. One 'ud think she had a hundred legs and arms for all you
think she can do. Molly's scrubbing out the dairy, which she ought to a
done this morning."

"It won't run to it after all!" exclaimed Bella, dashing her scissors
down on the table; "not by a good quarter of a yard."

"An' you've been and wasted pretty nigh all the afternoon over it," said
Mrs Greenways. "I do wish Gusta wouldn't send you them patterns, that
I do."

"I've cut up the skirt of my velveteen trying to fashion it," said
Bella, looking mournfully at the plate in Myra's Journal, "so now I'm
ever so much worse off than I was afore. Lor', Peter!" she