y a tune for the boys before
they went to bed, as their mother had given them leave to sit up to
supper with their father.

The farmer came home with a sad face, but how soon did it brighten,
when Susan, with a smile, said to him, "Father, we've good news for
you! good news for us all!--You have a whole week longer to stay with
us; and perhaps," she went on, putting her little purse into his
hands--"perhaps with what's here, and the bread-bills, and what may
somehow be got together before a week's at an end, we may make up the
nine guineas. Who knows, dearest mother, but we may keep him with us
for ever!" As she spoke, she threw her arms round her father, who
pressed her to him without speaking, for his heart was full. It was
some little time before he could believe that what he heard was true;
but the smiles of his wife, the noisy joy of his little boys, and the
delight that shone in Susan's face at last convinced him that he was
not in a dream.

As they sat down to supper, the old harper was made welcome to his
share of the simple meal.

Susan's father, as soon as supper was finished, even before he would
let the harper play a tune for his boys, opened the little purse which
Susan had given him. He was surprised at the sight of the twelve
shillings, and still more, when he came to the bottom of the purse to
see the bright golden guinea.

"How did you come by all this money, Susan?" said he.

"How, I can't make out, except by the baking," said her proud mother.
"Hey, Susan, is this your first baking?"

"Oh, no, no," said her father, "I have the money for her first baking
snug here, besides, in my pocket. I kept it for a surprise, to do your
mother's heart good, Susan. Here's twenty-nine shillings, and the
Abbey bill, which is not paid yet, comes to ten more. What think you
of this, wife? Have we not a right to be proud of our Susan? Why," he
went on, turning to the harper, "I ask your pardon for speaking before
strangers in praise of my own child; but the truth is the fittest
thing to be spoken, I think, at all times. Here's your good health,
Susan. Why, by and by she'll be worth her weight in gold--in silver at
least. But tell us, child, how came you by all this wealth, and how
comes it that I don't go to-morrow? The happy news makes me so gay,
I'm afraid I shall hardly understand it rightly. Speak on, child--but
first bring us a bottle of the good mead you made last year from your
own honey."

Susan did not