nk she will be ready to go as
soon as that is over. There would be no good in waiting." And my voice
choked a little as I remembered for what our poor Annas would otherwise
wait.

"Cary Courtenay, do you know you have got ten years on your head in six
months?"

"I feel as if I were a good deal older," I said, smiling.

"You are the elder of the two now," said my Aunt Kezia, drily. "Not but
what Hatty has been through the kiln too; but it has softened her, and
hardened you."

"Then Hatty is gold, and I am only clay," I said, and I could not help
laughing a little, though I have not laughed much lately.

"There is some porcelain sells for its weight in gold," said my Aunt
Kezia.

"Thank you for the compliment, Aunt Kezia."

"Nay, lass, I'm a poor hand at compliments; but I know gold when I see
it--and brass, too. You'll be home in good time for Sophy's wedding."

"Aunt Kezia, who does Sophy marry?"

"Mr Liversedge, the Rector."

"Is not he rather rough?"

"Rough? Not a bit of it. He is a rough diamond, if he be."

"I fancied from what Sam said when he came back to Carlisle--"

"Oh, we had seen nought of him then. He has done more good at
Brocklebank than Mr Digby did all the years he was there. You'll see
fast enough when you get back. 'Tis the nature of the sun to shine."

"What do you mean by that, Aunt Kezia?"

"Keep your eyes open--that's what I mean. Girls, your father bade me
please myself about tarrying a bit before I turned homeward. I doubt
I'm not just as welcome to your grandmother as to you; but I think we
shall do best to bide till we see if the others can come with us. Maybe
Ephraim may be ready to go home by then, too. 'Tis a bad thing for a
young man to get into idle habits."

"O Aunt Kezia, Ephraim is not idle!" I cried.

"Pray, who asked you to stand up for him, Miss?" replied my Aunt Kezia.
"`A still tongue makes a wise head,' lass. I'll tell you what, I rather
fancy Mrs Desborough thinks me rough above a bit. If I'm to be stroked
alongside of these fine folks here, I shall feel rough, I've no doubt.
That smart, plush fellow, with his silver clocks to his silk stockings,
took up my basket as if he expected it to bite his fingers. We don't
take hold of baskets that road in our parts. I haven't seen a pair of
decent clogs since I passed Derby. They are all slim French finnicking
pattens down here. How many of those fine lords-in-waiting have you in
the house?"