te_ is herself a right easy-going woman: 'tis her
father of whom _Blanche_ hath her temper. But _Alice_ saith to me, that
sat right at the end of the board where she was a-work--

"All very well, methinks, for my fine mistress to come hither a-prinking
and a-pranking of her, and looking to be took back as if nought had
happened. If I had the word to say, she'd not come home in no hurry, I
warrant you. She should lie on her bed as she'd made it."

"O _Alice_!" said I, "but sure, thou wilt be right glad to have
_Blanche_ back?"

"Shall I so?" saith she, and tossed her head. "Thank you for nothing,
_Nell Louvaine_. I'm a decent maid that have alway carried me belike,
and I go not about to say `sister' to one that brought disgrace on her
name."

"_Alice_, art thou about to play the _Pharisee_?" said I, for I was sore
troubled. I had ever thought _Alice_ right sorry after _Blanche_, and
it did astonish me to hear such words of her.

"Let my fine Lady _Everett_ play the publican first, then," quoth she.

I scarce wist what to say, yet I would have said more, but that _Mother_
rose up to depart at this time. But I am so astonied at _Alice_. While
so _Blanche_ were lost, she did seem quite soft toward her; and now she
is found, here is _Alice_ grown hard as a board, and all of a minute, as
it were. Had it been our _Milly_ (which I do thank God from mine
heart-root it is not) I think I would not have been thus towards her. I
know I am but sinful and not to be trusted for the right, as much or
more than other: but I do _think_ I should not so do.

Yet is there one matter that I comprehend not, nor never shall, neither
of _Milly_ nor of any other. To think of a maid leaving of father and
mother, and her home, and her brethren and sisters, to go away with a
fine-spoken man that she had not known a month, all by reason he spake
some flattering words--in good sooth, but 'tis a marvel unto me. Truly,
I might conceive the same in case a maid were rare ill-usen at home--
were her father ever harsh unto her, and her mother all day a-nagging at
her--then, if the man should show him no mere flatterer, but a true
friend, would I not stick to the days she had known him. And yet, as
methinks, it should be a strange case wherein a true man should not go
boldly and honestly to the maid's father, and ask her of him, with no
hole-and-corner work. But to think of so leaving _our_ father and
mother, that never in all their live