herself severely punished by
Martha's unkindness and quick temper? Not that Martha became bad
suddenly, or was always unkind and neglectful; there were times when
she was her old self again, when she would listen patiently enough to
Stephen's remonstrances and Miss Anne's gentle teaching; but yet Stephen
could never feel sure, when he was at his dismal toil underground, that
all things were going on right in his home overhead. Often and often, as
he looked up to Fern's Hollow, where the new red-brick house was now to
be seen plainly, like a city set on a hill, he longed to be back again,
and counted the months and weeks until the spring should bring home the
good clergyman to Danesford.

One day, during the time allowed to the pit-girls for eating their
dinner, Bess came running over the cinderhills in breathless haste to the
old cabin. Martha had been busy all the morning, and was still standing
at the washing-tub; but she was glad of an excuse for resting herself,
and when Bess sprang over the door-sill, she received her very cordially.

'Martha! Martha!' cried Bess; 'come away quickly. Here's Andrew the
packman in the lane, with such shawls, Martha! Blue and red and yellow
and green! Only five shillings a-piece; and thee canst pay him a shilling
a week. Come along, and be sharp with thee.'

'I've got no money to spend,' said Martha sullenly. 'Stephen ought to let
grandfather go into the House, and then we shouldn't be so pinched. What
with buying for him and little Nan, I've hardly a brass farthing in the
world for myself.'

'I'd not pinch,' Bess answered; 'let Stephen pinch if he will. Why,
all the lads in Botfield are making a mock at thee, calling thee an
old-fashioned piece and Granny Fern. But come and look, anyhow; Andrew
will be gone directly.'

Bess dragged Martha by the arm to the top of the cinder-hill, where they
could see the pit-girls clustering round the packman in the lane. The
black linen wrapper in which his pack was carried was stretched along
the hedge, and upon it was spread a great show of bright-coloured shawls
and dresses, and the girls were flitting from one to another, closely
examining their quality; while Andrew's wife walked up and down,
exhibiting each shawl by turns upon her shoulders. The temptation was too
strong for Martha; she wiped the soap-suds from her arms upon her apron,
and ran as eagerly down to the lane as Black Bess herself.

'Eh! here's a clean, tight lass for you!' c