spar. All is purity
and order in this once dreary room, for, fifteen years ago, it was
entered by a new presiding spirit.

"Now, father," said Nancy, "_is_ there any call for you to go home to
tea? Mayn't you just as well stay with us?--such a beautiful evening
as it's likely to be."

The old gentleman had been talking with Godfrey about the increasing
poor-rate and the ruinous times, and had not heard the dialogue between
his daughters.

"My dear, you must ask Priscilla," he said, in the once firm voice, now
become rather broken. "She manages me and the farm too."

"And reason good as I should manage you, father," said Priscilla, "else
you'd be giving yourself your death with rheumatism. And as for the
farm, if anything turns out wrong, as it can't but do in these times,
there's nothing kills a man so soon as having nobody to find fault with
but himself. It's a deal the best way o' being master, to let somebody
else do the ordering, and keep the blaming in your own hands. It 'ud
save many a man a stroke, _I_ believe."

"Well, well, my dear," said her father, with a quiet laugh, "I didn't
say you don't manage for everybody's good."

"Then manage so as you may stay tea, Priscilla," said Nancy, putting
her hand on her sister's arm affectionately. "Come now; and we'll go
round the garden while father has his nap."

"My dear child, he'll have a beautiful nap in the gig, for I shall
drive. And as for staying tea, I can't hear of it; for there's this
dairymaid, now she knows she's to be married, turned Michaelmas, she'd
as lief pour the new milk into the pig-trough as into the pans. That's
the way with 'em all: it's as if they thought the world 'ud be new-made
because they're to be married. So come and let me put my bonnet on,
and there'll be time for us to walk round the garden while the horse is
being put in."

When the sisters were treading the neatly-swept garden-walks, between
the bright turf that contrasted pleasantly with the dark cones and
arches and wall-like hedges of yew, Priscilla said--

"I'm as glad as anything at your husband's making that exchange o' land
with cousin Osgood, and beginning the dairying. It's a thousand pities
you didn't do it before; for it'll give you something to fill your
mind. There's nothing like a dairy if folks want a bit o' worrit to
make the days pass. For as for rubbing furniture, when you can once
see your face in a table there's nothing else to look for; but