e will never take the money, and leave grandfather
in peace for the rest of his days.'

Bryda, who was opening her box to bring out her presents for Bet--a
large crimson neckerchief with a border, a bow of ribbon to match for
her cap, and a pair of long mittens--did not reply.

'What do you think, Bryda? Shall we have all the trouble back again at
Easter?'

'Oh, no; let's hope not,' Bryda said carelessly. 'See, do you like these
things? They are all for you.'

'Oh! they _are_ beautiful! But, dear, you must have spent too much money
on me.'

'Not I. Why, child, I had five pounds wages, and I have got a lot left,
and I am going to give Aunt Doll this warm shawl, and the dear old daddy
a pipe, and yet I have three pounds left to last me till midsummer.'

'Ah, midsummer!' Betty said. 'We shall know by then.'

'Know what?' Bryda said sharply.

'Know whether we are sold up or not.'

'Well, let us have peace now, and forget everything but how we love each
other; and oh! Bet, I have so much to tell you. I have read so many
books while madam is asleep. The _Vicar of Wakefield_, and _Paradise
Lost_, and Mr Pope's poetry, and history--and then there is poor Tom
Chatterton, his verses are lovely!'

'Chatterton!' Betty said, 'who is he? Oh, yes, I remember--the
apprentice who lives in the kitchen, and you went to see his mother.'

'Of course he is very strange and queer sometimes,' Bryda went on, 'but
he is what is called a genius.'

'Is he in love with you?' Betty asked.

'Not that I know of. He is too full of Rowley the priest, and Mr
Walpole's horrible rudeness to him, to be much in love. Of course he
talks about my eyes, and my grace, and all such rubbish, but that is not
_love_, little Bet.'

'Jack Henderson's is love,' Bet ventured to say. 'He has time to think
of nothing but you, anyhow.'

'Poor fellow!' Bryda said. 'I am afraid I have a great many other things
to think of besides him. Let us go down. There's Aunt Doll screeching
for you as usual.'

It was a pleasant Christmas in the old homestead. There seemed to be a
tacit understanding in the family not to forecast the changes that
Easter might bring. Everything went smoothly till the last evening of
Bryda's holiday, when Jack Henderson came to supper, the board spread
with the remains of the fine turkey cooked on Christmas day, and the
large mince pie, pricked out with holly, which stood in the middle of
the table.

The log fire sparkled merrily up