ught you of London altogether?"

"Why, the first thing I thought of was the size and the noise," answered
Mrs Dorothy. "It seemed to me such a great overgrown town, so
different from Saint Albans; and so many carts and wheelbarrows always
rattling over the stones; and so many folks in the streets; and all the
strange cries of a morning. I thought my father a very strange, cold
man, of whom I was no little afraid; and my mother was sadly
disappointed that I did not roll my eyes, and had not been taught to
dance."

"Why did they ever leave you at a farmhouse?" inquired Rhoda, rather
scornfully.

"_I_ cannot entirely say, my dear; but I think that was mainly my
father's doing. My poor father!"

And Mrs Dorothy's handkerchief was hastily passed across her eyes.

"The first night I came," she said, "my mother had a large assembly in
her withdrawing-chamber. There were smart-dressed ladies fluttering of
their fans, and gentlemen in all the colours of the rainbow; and I,
foolish maid! right well pleased when one and another commended my
country complexion, or told me something about my fine eyes: when all at
once came a heavy hand on my shoulder, and my father saith, `Dorothy, I
would speak with you.' I followed him forth, not a little trembling
lest he should be about to chide me; but he led me into his own closet,
and shut the door. He bade me sit, and leaning over the fire himself,
he said nought for a moment. Then saith he, `Dorothy, you heard Mr
Debenham speak to you?' `Yes, Sir,' quoth I. `And what said he,
child?' goes on my father, gently. I was something loth to repeat what
he had said; for it was what I, in my foolish heart, thought a very fine
speech about Mrs Doll's fine eyes, that glistered like stars. Howbeit,
my father waited quiet enough; and having been well bred to obey by
Farmer Ingham, I brought it out at last. `Did you believe it, Dorothy?'
saith my father. `Did you think he meant it?' I did but whisper, `Yes,
Sir,' for I could not but feel very much ashamed. `Then, Dorothy,'
saith he, `the first lesson you will do well to learn in London is that
men and women do not always mean it when they flatter you. And he does
not. Ah!' saith my father, fetching a great sigh,--`'tis easy work for
fathers to say such things, but not so for maidens to believe them.
There is one other thing I would have you learn, Dorothy.' `Yes, Sir,'
quoth I, when he stayed. He turned him around, and looked in