e centre of interest and regard. Iver responded
good-humoredly and pleaded for patience. He was hungry, he was
thirsty, he was dusty and hot. He must postpone personal details
till a more convenient season. Now his mind was taken up with the
thought, not of himself, but of his old playmate, his almost
sister, his--he might dare to call her, first love--who was
stepping out of the house, out of his reach, just as he stepped
back into it, strong with the anticipation of finding her there.
Then raising his glass, and looking at Matabel, he said: "Here's
to you, Matabel, and may you be very happy with the man of your
choice."

"Have you no good wish for me?" sneered the Broom-Squire.

"For you, Bideabout," answered Iver, "I do not express a wish. I
know for certainty that you, that any man, not may, but must be
happy with such a girl, unless he be a cur."

CHAPTER XIII.

HOME.

Bideabout was driving his wife home.

Home! There is no word sweeter to him who has created that reality
to which the name belongs; but there is no word more full of vague
fears to one who has it to create.

Home to Bideabout was a rattle-trap farmhouse built partly of
brick, mainly of timber, thatched with heather, at the bottom of
the Punch-Bowl.

It was a dwelling that served to cover his head, but was without
pleasant or painful associations--a place in which rats raced and
mice squeaked; a place in which money might be made and hoarded,
but on which little had been spent. It was a place he had known
from childhood as the habitation of his parents, and which now was
his own. His childhood had been one of drudgery without cheerfulness,
and was not looked back on with regret. Home was not likely to be
much more to him in the future than it was in the present. More
comfortable perhaps, certainly more costly. But it was other with
Mehetabel.

She was going to the unknown.

As we shudder at the prospect of passing out of this world into
that beyond the veil, so does many a girl shrink at the prospect
of the beyond seen through the wedding ring.

She had loved the home at the Ship. Would she learn to love the
home in the Punch-Bowl?

She had understood and made allowance for the humors of the
landlord and landlady of the tavern; did she know those of her
future associate in the farm? To many a maid, the great love that
swells her heart and dazzles her brain carries her into the new
condition on the wings of hope.

Love bani