He
generally called her "Sweet Nancy," because she was so pretty and
dainty, and, above all, so good-tempered--a quality he knew how to
appreciate.

"I was wondering, mother," Nancy began hesitatingly, as she removed her
hat and advanced towards the wood fire, above which Mrs. Forest was
hooking-on a huge kettle of fowls' food--"I was wondering if I might
have some new gloves for Christmas."

"And where, I should like to know, is the money for them to come from?"
demanded the mother sharply. "I want lots of things I go without. It
takes all I can scrape and spare to buy saucers for them chickens to
break. It's a shame of the master not to buy proper drinking dishes for
them; and when I asked him for some, he said your father could dig a
hole and sink the old copper-boiler in it, and fill that with water for
them, just as if he hadn't the sense to see as how every blessed chicken
'ud get drowned, and me be blamed for it, as usual."

"Here is half-a-sovereign as the master gave me for you to pay for the
sacks. Couldn't Nancy have some of that?" inquired John, fumbling in his
pocket for the coin.

Mrs. Forest took the money from his hand and placed it upon the
chimney-piece, intending to put it away presently in the tea-pot in the
corner cupboard, which, however, she forgot to do, otherwise this story
would never have been written.

"I want all that ten shillings to get a new cocoa-matting for the front
room floor," she said, decidedly. "The bricks strike as cold as a grave
since the old matting was took up."

"I must go and grind the turmits for the sheep, and move 'em into the
other fold for the night," said John, knocking out the ashes from his
pipe and rising to go. As he was closing the door behind him he called
to his wife, "You let the cocoa-matting bide, and give Nan a shilling or
two for her gloves."

"That I shall do nothing of the sort, then," shouted Mrs. Forest after
her husband; then, turning on her daughter angrily, she asked: "What do
you want gloves at all for, I should like to know? I don't wear gloves;
and why should you, who do nothing to earn them?"

"I shall be out of my time soon," Nancy answered, beginning to cry; "and
I will pay you back then all I have cost."

"I daresay," sneered her mother; "it'll take all you can earn to deck
yourself out to catch young Mr. Fred's eyes. Don't you think as I'm not
sharp enough to see which way the wind blows."

"Mother!" cried Nancy, rising indignan