else's."

"No, to be sure; you'll have a right to her, if you're a father to her,
and bring her up according. But," added Dolly, coming to a point which
she had determined beforehand to touch upon, "you must bring her up
like christened folks's children, and take her to church, and let her
learn her catechise, as my little Aaron can say off--the "I believe",
and everything, and "hurt nobody by word or deed",--as well as if he
was the clerk. That's what you must do, Master Marner, if you'd do the
right thing by the orphin child."

Marner's pale face flushed suddenly under a new anxiety. His mind was
too busy trying to give some definite bearing to Dolly's words for him
to think of answering her.

"And it's my belief," she went on, "as the poor little creatur has
never been christened, and it's nothing but right as the parson should
be spoke to; and if you was noways unwilling, I'd talk to Mr. Macey
about it this very day. For if the child ever went anyways wrong, and
you hadn't done your part by it, Master Marner--'noculation, and
everything to save it from harm--it 'ud be a thorn i' your bed for ever
o' this side the grave; and I can't think as it 'ud be easy lying down
for anybody when they'd got to another world, if they hadn't done their
part by the helpless children as come wi'out their own asking."

Dolly herself was disposed to be silent for some time now, for she had
spoken from the depths of her own simple belief, and was much concerned
to know whether her words would produce the desired effect on Silas.
He was puzzled and anxious, for Dolly's word "christened" conveyed no
distinct meaning to him. He had only heard of baptism, and had only
seen the baptism of grown-up men and women.

"What is it as you mean by "christened"?" he said at last, timidly.
"Won't folks be good to her without it?"

"Dear, dear! Master Marner," said Dolly, with gentle distress and
compassion. "Had you never no father nor mother as taught you to say
your prayers, and as there's good words and good things to keep us from
harm?"

"Yes," said Silas, in a low voice; "I know a deal about that--used to,
used to. But your ways are different: my country was a good way off."
He paused a few moments, and then added, more decidedly, "But I want to
do everything as can be done for the child. And whatever's right for
it i' this country, and you think 'ull do it good, I'll act according,
if you'll tell me."

"Well, then, Master Ma