mble
from me."

Eliza Marner kept the promise she had made before marriage faithfully.
If she ever felt in her heart any jealousy as she saw Polly growing up a
pretty bright little maiden, as different to the usual child product
of Varley as could well be, she was wise enough never to express her
thoughts, and behaved with motherly kindness to her in the evening hours
spent at home. She would perhaps have felt the task a harder one had her
own elder children been girls; but three boys came first, and a girl
was not born until she had been married eleven years. Polly, who was now
fourteen, had just come home from her schooling at Marsden for good,
and was about to go out into service there. But after the birth of her
little girl Mrs. Marner, who had never for a Varley girl been strong,
faded rapidly away; and Polly's stay at home, intended at first to last
but a few weeks, until its mother was about again, extended into months.

The failing woman reaped now the benefit of Polly's training. Her
gentle, quiet way, her soft voice, her neatness and tidiness, made her
an excellent nurse, and she devoted herself to cheer and brighten the
sickroom of the woman who had made so kind an adopted mother to her. Her
influence kept even the rough boys quiet; and all Varley, which had at
first been unanimous in its condemnation of the manner in which Luke
Marner was bringing up that "gal" of his, just as if the place was not
good enough for her, were now forced to confess that the experiment had
turned out well.

"Polly, my dear," the sick woman said to her one afternoon when the girl
had been reading to her for some time, and was now busy mending some of
the boys' clothes, while baby, nearly a year old, was gravely amusing
herself with a battered doll upon the floor, "I used to think, though I
never said so, as your feyther war making a mistake in bringing you up
different to other gals here; but I see as he was right. There ain't
one of them as would have been content to give up all their time and
thoughts to a sick woman as thou hast done. There ain't a house in the
village as tidy and comfortable as this, and the boys mind you as they
never minded me. When I am gone Luke will miss me, but thar won't be no
difference in his comfort, and I know thou'lt look arter baby and be
a mother to her. I don't suppose as thou wilt stay here long; thou art
over fifteen now, and the lads will not be long afore they begin to come
a-coorting of