inkled boldly down, followed by another.

"Phoebe! My awn li'l wummon! This be a wisht home-comin'! What the
plague's the matter wi' us?"

"Doan't 'e mind, dear heart. I'm happy as a bird under these silly
tears. But 'twas the leavin' o' faither, an' him so hard, an' me lovin'
him so dear, an'--an'--"

"Doan't 'e break your heart 'bout him. He'll come round right enough.
'Twas awnly the pang o' your gwaine away, like the drawin' of a tooth."

"Everybody else in the world knaws I ought to be here," sobbed Phoebe,
"but faither, he won't see it. An' I caan't get un out of my mind
to-night, sitting that mournfui an' desolate, wi' his ear deaf to
Billy's noise an' his thoughts up here."

"If he won't onderstand the ways of marriage, blessed if I see how we
can make him. Surely to God, 'twas time I had my awn?"

"Ess, dear Will, but coming to-day, 'pon top of my gert joy, faither's
sorrow seemed so terrible-like."

"He'll get awver it, an' so will you, bless you. Drink up some of this
braave stuff mother left. Sherry 't is, real wine, as will comfort 'e,
my li'l love. 'Tis I be gwaine to make your happiness henceforward,
mind; an' as for Miller, he belongs to an auld-fashioned generation of
mankind, and it's our place to make allowances. Auld folk doan't knaw
an' won't larn. But he'll come to knaw wan solid thing, if no more; an'
that is as his darter'll have so gude a husband as she've got faither,
though I sez it."

"'Tis just what he said I shouldn't, Will."

"Nevermind, forgive un, an' drink up your wine; 'twill hearten 'e."

A dog barked, a gate clinked, and there came the sound of a horse's
hoofs, then of a man dismounting.

Will told the rest of the story afterwards to Mrs. Blanchard.

"''Tis faither,' cries Phoebe, an' turns so pale as a whitewashed wall
in moonlight. 'Never!' I sez. But she knawed the step of un, an'
twinkled up from off her chair, an' 'fore ever the auld man reached the
door, 't was awpen. In he comed, like a lamb o' gentleness, an' said
never a word for a bit, then fetched out a little purse wi' twenty gawld
sovereigns in it. An' us all had some fine talk for more'n an hour, an'
he was proper faither to me, if you'll credit it; an' he drinked a glass
o' your wine, mother, an' said he never tasted none better and not much
so gude. Then us seed un off, an' Phoebe cried again, poor twoad, but
for sheer happiness this time. So now the future's clear as sunlight,
an' we'm all friends--'cep