und of the coming waggon was close at hand.

Scarcely less delighted than they with this surprising strange turn of
events, I left 'em there with bright, smiling faces, and journeyed on to
London, and there taking a pair of oars at the Bridge to Greenwich, all
eagerness to give these joyful tidings to my old friend, Jack Dawson. I
found him in his workroom, before a lathe, and sprinkled from head to
toe with chips, mighty proud of a bed-post he was a-turning. And it did
my heart good to see him looking stout and hearty, profitably occupied
in this business, instead of soaking in an alehouse (as I feared at one
time he would) to dull his care; but he was ever a stout, brave fellow,
who would rather fight than give in any day. A better man never lived,
nor a more honest--circumstances permitting.

His joy at seeing me was past everything; but his first thought after
our hearty greeting was of his daughter.

"My Moll," says he, "my dear girl; you han't brought her to add to my
joy? She's not slinking behind a door to fright me with delight, hey?"

"No," says I; "but I've brought you great news of her."

"And good, I'll swear, Kit, for there's not a sad line in your face.
Stay, comrade, wait till I've shook these chips off and we are seated in
my parlour, for I do love to have a pipe of tobacco and a mug of ale
beside me in times of pleasure. You can talk of indifferent things,
though, for Lord! I do love to hear the sound of your voice again."

I told him how the ceiling of our dining-hall had been painted.

"Aye," says he. "I have heard of that; for my dear girl hath writ about
that and nought else in her letters; and though I've no great fancy for
such matters, yet I doubt not it is mighty fine by her long-winded
praises of it. Come, Kit, let us in here and get to something fresher."

So we into his parlour, which was a neat, cheerful room, with a fine
view of the river, and there being duly furnished with a mighty mug of
ale and clean pipes, he bids me give him my news, and I tell him how
Moll had fallen over head and ears in love with the painter, and he with
her, and how that very morning they had come together and laid open
their hearts' desire one to the other, with the result (as I believed)
that they would be married as soon as they could get a parson to do
their business.

"This is brave news indeed," cries he, "and easeth me beyond
comprehension, for I could see clearly enough she was smitten with this