natured Molly.

'My cousin Philip, him as is shopman at Foster's,' said Sylvia,
innocently. But it was far too good an opportunity for the exercise
of Molly's kind of wit for her to pass over.

'Oh, oh! our cousin Philip, is it? and he'll not be living so far
away from your mother? I've no need be a witch to put two and two
together. He's a coming here to-night, isn't he, Bessy?'

'I wish yo' wouldn't talk so, Molly,' said Sylvia; 'me and Philip is
good enough friends, but we niver think on each other in that way;
leastways, I don't.'

'(Sweet butter! now that's my mother's old-fashioned way; as if
folks must eat sweet butter now-a-days, because her mother did!)
That way,' continued Molly, in the manner that annoyed Sylvia so
much, repeating her words as if for the purpose of laughing at them.
'"That way?" and pray what is t' way yo're speaking on? I niver said
nought about marrying, did I, that yo' need look so red and
shamefaced about yo'r cousin Philip? But, as Brunton says, if t' cap
fits yo', put it on. I'm glad he's comin' to-night tho', for as I'm
done makin' love and courtin', it's next best t' watch other folks;
an' yo'r face, Sylvia, has letten me into a secret, as I'd some
glimpses on afore I was wed.'

Sylvia secretly determined not to speak a word more to Philip than
she could help, and wondered how she could ever have liked Molly at
all, much less have made a companion of her. The table was now laid
out, and nothing remained but to criticize the arrangement a little.

Bessy was full of admiration.

'Theere, Molly!' said she. 'Yo' niver seed more vittle brought
together i' Newcassel, I'll be bound; there'll be above half a
hundredweight o' butcher's meat, beside pies and custards. I've
eaten no dinner these two days for thinking on 't; it's been a weary
burden on my mind, but it's off now I see how well it looks. I told
mother not to come near it till we'd spread it all out, and now I'll
go fetch her.'

Bessy ran off into the house-place.

'It's well enough in a country kind o' way,' said Molly, with the
faint approbation of condescension. 'But if I'd thought on, I'd ha'
brought 'em down a beast or two done i' sponge-cake, wi' currants
for his eyes to give t' table an air.'

The door was opened, and Bessy came in smiling and blushing with
proud pleasure. Her mother followed her on tip-toe, smoothing down
her apron, and with her voice subdued to a whisper:--

'Ay, my lass, it _is_ fine! But du