take with me."

"Of course he is in," said the parson's maid; "there, in the parlor."

As the baker entered the parson's parlor, some one hastened to meet
him. It was the Widow Monk.

"You wicked man," she whispered, "you are a quarter of an hour late.
The parson is waiting."

The parson was a little man with white hair. He stepped toward the
couple standing together, and the widow took the baker's hand. Then the
parson began the little speech he always made on such occasions. It
was full of good sense and very touching, and the widow's eyes were dim
with tears. The baker would have spoken, but he had never interrupted a
clergyman, and he could not do it now.

Then the parson began his appointed work, and the heart of the baker
swelled, as the widow's hand trembled in his own.

"Wilt thou have this woman to be thy wedded wife?" asked the parson.

"Now for this," quoth the poor baker to himself, "I may bake forever,
but I cannot draw back nor keep the good man waiting." And he said,
"Yes."

Then it was that the baker received what he had come for,--the parson's
blessing; and, immediately, his fair companion, brimming with tears,
threw herself into his arms.

"Now," said the baker to himself, "when I leave this house, may the
devil take me, and right welcome shall he be!"

"Dearest," she exclaimed, as she looked into his face, "you cannot know
how happy I am. My wedding day, and my brother back from the cruel
seas!"

Struck by a sudden blast of bewildering ecstasy, the baker raised his
eyes, and beheld the tall form of the sun-browned stranger who had been
standing behind them.

"You are not a sailor-man," quoth the jovial brother, "like my old
mate, who went down in the brig _Mistletoe_, but my sister tells me you
are a jolly good fellow, and I wish you fair winds and paying cargoes."
And after giving the baker a powerful handshake, the sailor kissed the
bride, the parson's wife, the parson's daughter, and the parson's maid,
and wished the family were larger, having just returned from the cruel
seas.

The only people in the village of Barnbury, who thoroughly enjoyed the
Christmas of that year, were the baker, his wife, and the sailor
brother. And a rare good time they had; for a big sea-chest arrived,
and there were curious presents, and a tall flask of rare old wine, and
plenty of time for three merry people to cook for themselves.

The baker told his wife of his soul-harrowing plight of the day be