hem, they concluded that things were tolerably smooth. They did not
see anybody from the smithy until two days later; and then, rather late
in the evening--namely, about six o'clock--Dan himself made his
appearance, with one bundle slung on a stick over his shoulder, and
another carried like a baby.

"Well!" said he, as he sat down on the settle, and wiped his hot face
with his apron. "Well!"

"O Father, I'm so glad!" said Bertha. "Are those my things? How good
of you to bring them!"

"Ay, they be," said Dan emphatically. "Take 'em and make the best thou
can of 'em; for thou'll get no more where they came from, I can tell
thee."

"Was Aunt Filomena very much put out?" asked Avice, in a rather penitent
tone.

"She wasn't put out o' nothing," answered Dan, "except conduct becoming
a Christian woman. She was turned into a wild dragon, all o'er claws
and teeth, and there was three little dragons behind her, and they was
all a-top o' me together. If El'nor hadn't thought better on't, and
come and stood by me, there wouldn't have been much o' me to bring these
here."

"Then you did not run, Uncle Dan?" replied Avice.

"She clutched me, lass!" responded Dan, with awful solemnity. "And
t'others, they had me too. Thee try to run with a wild dragon holding
on to thy hair, and three more to thy arms and legs--just do! I wonder
I'm not tore to bits--I do. Howsome'er, here I be; and I just wish I
could stop. Ay, I do so!"

And Dan's apron took another journey round his face.

"Uncle Dan, would you like to take Bertha back?" was Avice's
self-sacrificing suggestion.

"Don't name it!" cried Dan, dropping the apron. "Don't name it! There
wouldn't be an inch on her left by morning light! I wonder there's any
o' me. Eh, but this world is a queer un. Is she a good lass, Avice?"

"Yes, indeed she is," said Avice.

"I'm fain to hear it; and I'm fain thou's fallen on thy feet, my little
un. And, Avice--if thou knows of any young man as wants to go
soldiering, and loves a fray, just thee send him o'er to th' smithy, and
he shall ha' the pick o' th' dragons. I hope he'll choose Ankaret.
He'll get my blessing!"

Aunt Filomena seemed to have washed her hands of her youngest daughter.
She never came near them; and Avice thought it the better part of valour
to keep away from the smithy. When Emma had a holiday, which was a rare
treat, she often spent it with her sister; and on still rarer occasions
Eleanor paid