ceited
little imp, to venture to speak of his young mistress in that way.

"I wouldn't do it to any one but yourself, Susan," he said, in no wise
abashed, "an' I hope you appreciate my confidence."

"Don't talk such nonsense, child, but go on with what you were speaking
about," rejoined Susan, with a smile, to conceal which she bent down her
head as she plied her needle briskly on one of Emma's mountain-torn
dresses.

"Well, where was I?" continued Gillie, "ah, yes. Then, Lord
what's-'is-name, _he's_ falled in love with the mountain-tops, an' is
for ever tryin' to get at 'em, in which he would succeed, for he's a
plucky young feller, if it worn't for that snob--who's got charge of
'im--Mister Lumbard--whose pecooliarity lies in preferrin' every wrong
road to the right one. As I heard Mr Lewis say the other day, w'en I
chanced to be passin' the keyhole of the sallymanjay, `he'd raither go
up to the roof of a 'ouse by the waterspout than the staircase,' just
for the sake of boastin' of it."

"And is Mr Lumbard in love with any one?" asked Susan.

"Of course he is," answered Gillie, "he's in love with hisself. He's
always talkin' of hisself, an' praisin' hisself, an' boastin' of hisself
an' what he's done and agoin' to do. He's plucky enough, no doubt, and
if there wor a lightnin'-conductor runnin' to top of Mount Blang, I do
b'lieve he'd try to--to--lead his Lordship up _that_; but he's too fond
of talkin' an' swaggerin' about with his big axe, an' wearin' a coil of
rope on his shoulder when he ain't goin' nowhere. Bah! I don't like
him. What do you think, Susan, I met him on the road the other evenin'
w'en takin' a stroll by myself down near the Glassyer day Bossong, an' I
says to him, quite in a friendly way, `bong joor,' says I, which is
French, you know, an' what the natives here says when they're in good
humour an' want to say `good-day,' `all serene,' `how are you off for
soap?' an' suchlike purlitenesses. Well, would you believe it, he went
past without takin' no notice of me whatsumdever."

"How _very_ impolite," said Susan, "and what did you do?"

"Do," cried Gillie, drawing himself up, "why, I cocked my nose in the
air and walked on without disdainin' to say another word--treated 'im
with suvrin contempt. But enough of _him_--an' more than enough. Well,
to continue, then there's Missis Stoutley, she's falled in love too."

"Indeed?"

"Yes, with wittles. The Count Hur--what's-'is-name, who's