out to the hired girl--

"Mary, send out and tell Andy to take the horse round to the barn.
He's hitched to the fence." Then she came back. "You'll join our party
to-night, of course."

"Hoity, girl, of course not," said their mother. "How's the lad going
to get rest gallivanting with a lot of clowns who can only talk of
'bowers' and 'jokers'? You think of nothing but 'how-de-doin' with
your neighbours since you're going to be married. Things were
different in my day. I'll look after Hervey," she continued, turning
to her son. "You shall have a good night, lad, or my name's not
Hephzibah Malling. Maybe you'll tell me by and by what you'd like to
do."

"That's right, mother," replied Hervey, with an air of relief. "You
understand what it is for a man to need rest. I'll just hang around
till the folks come, and then sneak off to bed. You don't mind, Prue,
do you? I'm dead beat, and I want to leave at daybreak."

"Mind?" answered Prudence; "certainly not, Hervey. I should have liked
you to meet Mr. Grey, but you must get your rest."

"Sure," added her mother, "and as for meeting Mr. Grey--well, your
brother won't sicken for want of seeing him, I'll wager. Come along,
Hervey, we'll go to the kitchen; Prudence has to get her best parlour
ready for these chattering noodles. And, miss," turning to her
daughter with an expression of pretended severity, "don't forget that
I've got a batch o' layer cakes in the ice-box, and you've not told me
what you want in the way of drinks. La, young folks never think of the
comforts. I'm sure I don't know what you'll do without your mother,
girl. Some o' these times your carelessness will get your parties made
a laughing-stock of. Come along, Hervey."

The old lady bustled out, bearing her son off in triumph to the
kitchen. She was quite happy again now. Her scheme for her son's
welfare had shut out all thought of his bad news. Most women are like
this; the joy of giving to their own is perhaps the greatest joy in
the life of a mother.

In the hall they met the flying, agitated figure of the hired girl,
Mary.

"Oh, please, 'm, there's such a racket going on by the barn. There's
Andy an' the two dogs fighting with a great, strange, three-legged dog
wot looks like a wolf. They're that mussed up that I don't know, I'm
sure."

"It's that brute Neche of mine," said Hervey, with an imprecation.
"It's all right, girl; I'll go."

Hervey rushed out to the barn. The great three-legged s