sh
notion afore, bein' but a silly maid, but now I be a married 'ooman,
an' I do know how to vally a husband's love."

The new-made bridegroom ceased struggling and gaped at her. Jenny,
gazing at her former lover more in sorrow than in anger, pointed
solemnly to the clock:--

"Take down that clock, Abel Guppy," she repeated. "I do know you now
for what you be. I consider you've behaved most heartless an'
unfeelin' in comin' here to try an' make mischief between man an'
wife. I thank the Lard," she added piously, "as I need never ha' no
more to do with you. Walk out o' my house, if ye please--"

"_Your_ house," interpolated Sam, a note of astonished query
perceptible in his tone despite its sulkiness.

"'E-es," said Jenny firmly. "He shall never show his face inside the
door where I be missis. Take down the clock, Abel Guppy," she repeated
for the third time. "You'd best help him, Sam. He don't seem able to
reach to it."

Encumbered as he was with newly-regained possessions, the yeoman had
made but abortive attempts to detach the timepiece; and Sam, with a
dawning grin on his countenance, now mounted on a chair, officiously
held by one of the guests, and speedily handed it down.

After all it was the ill-used Abel Guppy who looked most foolish as he
made his way to the door, loaded with his various goods, the relatives
of bride and bridegroom casting scornful glances at him as he passed.
Before he had proceeded twenty yards Sam ran after him with the
bank-book, which the other pocketed without a word, while the
bridegroom returned to the house, rubbing his hands and chuckling.

Jenny was already seated at the head of the table and received him
with a gracious smile:--

"If you'll fetch another plate, Sam, my dear," she remarked, "I can
begin for to cut the cake."

BLACKBIRD'S INSPIRATION

"What be lookin' at?" inquired Mrs. Bold, emerging from her dairy, and
incidentally wiping her hands on a corner of her apron. "There ye've
a-been standin' in a regular stud all the time I were a-swillin' out
the churn."

Farmer Bold was standing at the open stable door, his grey-bearded
chin resting on his big brown hand, his eyes staring meditatively in
front of him. It was a breezy, sunny autumn day, and all the world
about him was astir with life; gawky yellow-legged fowls pecked and
scratched round his feet with prodigious activity, calves were
bleating in the adjacent pens, while the very pigs were scuttling