edit to ourselves too; for Miss Mary
_was_ rather pale when she came here a week ago; but la, young folks want
a change now and then."

"Nurse," said Mary, "I really was not well, and you have done wonders for
me, and I hope you won't think me ungrateful, but I _must_ go home with
Mr. Hope."

Hope's countenance flushed with delight, and Mrs. Easton saw in a moment
that Mary's affection was co-operating with her prudence. "I thought that
would be her first word, sir," said she. "Why, of course you will, miss.
There, don't you take any trouble; we'll pack up your things and put them
in the dog-cart; but you must eat a morsel both of you before you go.
There's a beautiful piece of beef in the pot, not oversalted, and some
mealy potatoes and suet dumplings. You sit down and have your chat,
whilst Polly and I get everything ready for you."

Then Mary asked Mr. Hope so many questions with such eager affection that
he had no time to ask her any, and then she volunteered the home news,
especially of Colonel Clifford's condition, and then she blushed and
asked him if he had said anything to her father about Walter Clifford.

"Not much," said Mr. Hope. "You are very young, Mary, and it's not for me
to interfere, and I won't interfere. But if you want my opinion, why, I
admire the young man extremely. I always liked him; he is a
straightforward, upright, manly, good-hearted chap, and has lots of
plain good sense--Heaven knows where he got it!"

This eulogy was interrupted by Mary putting a white hand and a perfect
nose upon Hope's shoulder, and kissing the cloth thereon.

"What," said Hope, tenderly, and yet half sadly--for he knew that all
middle-aged men must now be second--"have I found the way to your heart?"

"You always knew that, Mr. Hope," said Mary, softly; "especially since my
escapade in that horrid brook."

Their affectionate chat was interrupted by a stout servant laying a snowy
cloth, and after her sailed in Mrs. Gilbert, with a red face, and pride
unconcealed and justifiable, carrying a grand dish of smoking hot boiled
beef, set in a very flower bed, so to speak, of carrots, turnips, and
suet dumplings; the servant followed with a brown basin, almost as big as
a ewer, filled with mealy potatoes, whose jackets hung by a thread.
Around this feast the whole party soon collected, and none of them sighed
for Russian soups or French ragouts; for the fact is that under the title
of boiled beef there exist two thing