she shall," said Lily, who had taken Mary by the hand.

"And we knew we shouldn't be in the way. Johnny can go out into the
garden if there's anything left to be done."

"He shan't be banished unless he likes it," said Mrs Dale. "If he
finds us women too much for his unaided strength--"

John Eames muttered something about being very well as he was, and
then got himself into an arm-chair. He had shaken hands with Lily,
trying as he did so to pronounce articulately a little speech which
he had prepared for the occasion. "I have to congratulate you, Lily,
and I hope with all my heart that you will be happy." The words were
simple enough, and were not ill-chosen, but the poor young man never
got them spoken. The word "congratulate" did reach Lily's ears, and
she understood it all;--both the kindness of the intended speech and
the reason why it could not be spoken.

"Thank you, John," she said; "I hope I shall see so much of you in
London. It will be so nice to have an old Guestwick friend near me."
She had her own voice, and the pulses of her heart better under
command than had he; but she also felt that the occasion was trying
to her. The man had loved her honestly and truly,--still did love
her, paying her the great homage of bitter grief in that he had lost
her. Where is the girl who will not sympathise with such love and
such grief, if it be shown only because it cannot be concealed, and
be declared against the will of him who declares it?

Then came in old Mrs Hearn, whose cottage was not distant two
minutes' walk from the Small House. She always called Mrs Dale "my
dear," and petted the girls as though they had been children. When
told of Lily's marriage, she had thrown up her hands with surprise,
for she had still left in some corner of her drawers remnants of
sugar-plums which she had bought for Lily. "A London man, is he?
Well, well. I wish he lived in the country. Eight hundred a year, my
dear?" she had said to Mrs Dale. "That sounds nice down here, because
we are all so poor. But I suppose eight hundred a year isn't very
much up in London?"

"The squire's coming, I suppose, isn't he?" said Mrs Hearn, as she
seated herself on the sofa close to Mrs Dale.

"Yes, he'll be here by-and-by; unless he changes his mind, you know.
He doesn't stand on ceremony with me."

"He change his mind! When did you ever know Christopher Dale change
his mind?"

"He is pretty constant, Mrs Hearn."

"If he promised to give