ivering on the threshold, glad to see
her friend again. Molly called out, when a few paces off,--

'Why, Sylvia, is that thee! Why, how thou'rt growed, to be sure!
What a bonny lass thou is!'

'Dunnot talk nonsense to my lass,' said Bell Robson, hospitably
leaving her ironing and coming to the door; but though the mother
tried to look as if she thought it nonsense, she could hardly keep
down the smile that shone out of her eyes, as she put her hand on
Sylvia's shoulder, with a fond sense of proprietorship in what was
being praised.

'Oh! but she is,' persisted Molly. 'She's grown quite a beauty sin'
I saw her. And if I don't tell her so, the men will.'

'Be quiet wi' thee,' said Sylvia, more than half offended, and
turning away in a huff at the open barefaced admiration.

'Ay; but they will,' persevered Molly. 'Yo'll not keep her long,
Mistress Robson. And as mother says, yo'd feel it a deal more to
have yer daughters left on hand.'

'Thy mother has many, I have but this one,' said Mrs. Robson, with
severe sadness; for now Molly was getting to talk as she disliked.
But Molly's purpose was to bring the conversation round to her own
affairs, of which she was very full.

'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