ell, that's a pretty title. I
suppose they call you so?"

"The men sometimes call me," replied Mary, rising to her feet, and
leaning carelessly against one of the upright timbers that supported the
porch, "the miller's pretty daughter, but the women call me plain Mary
Musgrove."

"Faith, my dear, the men come nearer to the truth than the women."

"They say not," replied the maiden, "I have heard, and sometimes I have
read in good books--at least, they called them good books--that you
mustn't believe the men."

"And why should you not?"

"I don't well know why not," returned the girl doubtingly, "but I am
young, and maybe I shall find it out by and by."

"God forbid," said Butler, "that you should ever gain that experience!
But there are many toils spread for the feet of innocence in this world,
and it is well to have a discreet eye and good friends."

"I am seventeen, sir," replied Mary, "come next month; and though I have
travelled backwards and forwards from here to Ennoree, and once to
Camden, which, you know, sir, is a good deal of this world to see, I
never knew anybody that thought harm of me. But I don't dispute there
are men to be afraid of, and some that nobody could like. And yet I
think a good man can be told by his face."

"Are you sure of that?"

"Yes. My father is a good man, and every one says you may see it in his
looks."

"I should like to know your father," said Butler.

"I am sure he would be glad to know you, sir."

"Now, my pretty miller's daughter, why do you think so?"

"Because you are a gentleman," replied the girl, courtesying, "for all
your homespun clothes."

"Ha! pray how have you found that out?"

"You talk differently from our people, sir. Your words or your voice, I
can't rightly tell which, are softer than I have been used to hear. And
you don't look, and walk, and behave as if homespun had been all you
ever wore."

"And is that all?"

"You stop to consider, as if you were studying what would please other
people; and you do not step so heavy, sir; and you do not swear; and you
do not seem to like to give trouble. I can't think, sir, that you have
been always used to such as are hereabouts. And then there's another
reason, sir," added the maiden, almost in a whisper.

"What is that?" asked Butler, smiling.

"Why, sir, when you stooped down to pick up your fork, that fell from
the table, I saw a blue ribbon round your neck, and a beautiful gold
picture hanging to