bed her hands
for joy.

Now the iron is hot, now is the time to strike!

"Ah, my daughter, romance is, no doubt, a very fine thing, but it will
soon bring you to starvation if you have nothing else to depend upon.
Those poetic gentlemen love to scribble about ideals and such like
rubbish, yet they themselves are always looking out for the trees on
which money grows. Why, the whole world runs after money, nothing but
money, and he who has money has honour into the bargain. A beggar may be
as honourable as you like, but nobody takes any notice of him. You are
young now, and handsome, and can get something on the strength of it;
but how long will your beauty last? In ten years' time it will be gone.
Nay, more, your loveliness may not even last so long as ten years if you
continue to live as you are living now, for those damsels who stint
themselves of the joys of life, wither the quickest----"

"Hush! Mr. Boltay is coming."

The old man entered, wished them good morning, and inquired if they
wanted anything brought from town, as the horses were already being put
to, and he would be off at once.

"Mamma wants to go away," said Fanny, with the utmost composure; "would
you be so good, daddy, as to take her along with you?"

Mrs. Meyer stared with all her eyes, and all her mouth too; she had
never said that she wanted to go away.

"Very happy!" replied Boltay. "Where does she want to go?"

"She wants to go home to her daughters (Mrs. Meyer looked frightened).
There are some embroideries of mine there which I do not want my sisters
to throw away or sell in the rag-market; bring them back to me."

(Ah, what a sage damsel! what a golden-minded damsel!)

"I am thinking especially of a sofa that is there. Mamma knows which it
is, for I embroidered the cover; it has two doves worked upon it. I
would not let my sisters have that on any account; do you understand?"

Why, of course she understood! This was the girl's way of showing that
she accepted the offer of the gentleman who was so fond of sitting on
the sofa, and how delicately she conveyed her consent--that blockhead of
a Boltay did not suspect anything. Oh, a sage damsel! a golden-minded
damsel!

Boltay went out for a moment to tell the coachman to prepare a seat for
a lady, and taking advantage of this moment, Mrs. Meyer whispered in her
daughter's ear--

"When may I come back for you?"

"The day after to-morrow."

"And what answer shall I give?"

"The day