ek about your relation's house;
and here, when you do condescend to step in--eh? how is it? You ain't, I
hope, ruined, Tony, are ye?"

Rhoda stood over her uncle to conceal him.

"He shall not speak till he has had some rest. And yes, mother, he shall
have some warm tea upstairs in bed. Boil some water. Now, uncle, come
with me."

"Anybody broke?" Anthony rolled the words over, as Rhoda raised his arm.
"I'm asked such a lot, my dear, I ain't equal to it. You said here 'd
be a quiet place. I don't know about money. Try my pockets. Yes, mum, if
you was forty policemen, I'm empty; you'd find it. And no objection to
nod to prayers; but never was taught one of my own. Where am I going, my
dear?"

"Upstairs with me, uncle."

Rhoda had succeeded in getting him on his feet.

The farmer tapped at his forehead, as a signification to the others
that Anthony had gone wrong in the head, which reminded him that he had
prophesied as much. He stiffened out his legs, and gave a manful spring,
crying, "Hulloa, brother Tony! why, man, eh? Look here. What, goin'
to bed? What, you, Tony? I say--I say--dear me!" And during these
exclamations intricate visions of tripping by means of gold wires danced
before him.

Rhoda hurried Anthony out.

After the door had shut, the farmer said: "That comes of it; sooner or
later, there it is! You give your heart to money--you insure in a ship,
and as much as say, here's a ship, and, blow and lighten, I defy you.
Whereas we day-by-day people, if it do blow and if it do lighten, and
the waves are avilanches, we've nothing to lose. Poor old Tony--a smash,
to a certainty. There's been a smash, and he's gone under the harrow.
Any o' you here might ha' heard me say, things can't last for ever.
Ha'n't you, now?"

The persons present meekly acquiesced in his prophetic spirit to this
extent. Mrs. Sumfit dolorously said, "Often, William dear," and accepted
the incontestable truth in deep humiliation of mind.

"Save," the farmer continued, "save and store, only don't put your heart
in the box."

"It's true, William;" Mrs. Sumfit acted clerk to the sermon.

Dahlia took her softly by the neck, and kissed her.

"Is it love for the old woman?" Mrs. Sumfit murmured fondly; and Dahlia
kissed her again.

The farmer had by this time rounded to the thought of how he personally
might be affected by Anthony's ill-luck, supposing; perchance, that
Anthony was suffering from something more than a sentimental a