ut at all?"

"No, not with the wheel; you might meet her on the road, and she would
be putting questions to you."

That evening Spikeman set off; and was absent for five days, when he
again made his appearance early in the morning. Joey had remained
almost altogether indoors, and had taken that opportunity of writing to
Mary. He wrote on the day after Spikeman's departure, as it would give
ample time for an answer before his return; but Joey received no reply
to his letter.

"I am all prepared now, my boy," said Spikeman, whose appearance was
considerably improved by the various little personal arrangements which
he had gone through during the time he was in London. "I have my money
in my pockets, my portmanteau at Cobhurst, and now it depends upon the
rapidity of my success when the day is to come that I make the
knife-grinder's wheel over to you. I will go down now, but without you
this time."

Spikeman set off with his wheel, and soon arrived at the usual place of
meeting; Miss Mathews, from the window, had perceived him coming down
the road; she waited a quarter of an hour before she made her
appearance; had not she had her eyes on the hands of the time-piece, and
knew that it was only a quarter of an hour, she could have sworn that it
had been two hours at least. Poor girl! she had, during this week, run
over every circumstance connected with the meeting at least a thousand
times; every word that had been exchanged had been engraven on her
memory, and, without her knowledge almost, her heart had imperceptibly
received the impression. She walked down, reading her book very
attentively, until she arrived at the bench.

"Any knives or scissors to grind, ma'am?" asked Spikeman, respectfully
coming forward.

"You here again, Master Tinker! Why, I had quite forgot all about you."

(Heaven preserve us! how innocent girls will sometimes tell fibs out of
modesty.)

"It were well for others, Miss Mathews, if their memory were equally
treacherous," rejoined Spikeman.

"And why so, pray?"

"I speak of the gentleman to whom you sent the message."

"And what was his reply to you?"

"He acknowledged, Miss Mathews, the madness of his communication to you,
of the impossibility of your giving him an answer, and of your admitting
him to your presence. He admired the prudence of your conduct, but,
unfortunately, his admiration only increased his love. He requested me
to say that he will write no more."

"He