hey have of scoffing at the Dissenters about their
dress."

"Very well! we'll make that bargain," said Miss Benson; "and now,
Ruth, I'll go and fetch you a cup of warm jelly."

"Oh! indeed, Aunt Faith," said Ruth, "I am very sorry to balk you;
but if you're going to treat me as an invalid, I am afraid I shall
rebel."

But when she found that Aunt Faith's heart was set upon it, she
submitted very graciously, only dimpling up a little, as she found
that she must consent to lie on the sofa, and be fed, when, in truth,
she felt full of health, with a luxurious sensation of languor
stealing over her now and then, just enough to make it very pleasant
to think of the salt breezes, and the sea beauty which awaited her at
Abermouth.

Mr Davis called in the afternoon, and his visit was also to Ruth. Mr
and Miss Benson were sitting with her in the parlour, and watching
her with contented love, as she employed herself in household sewing,
and hopefully spoke about the Abermouth plan.

"Well! so you had our worthy rector here to-day; I am come on
something of the same kind of errand; only I shall spare you the
reading of my letter, which, I'll answer for it, he did not. Please
to take notice," said he, putting down a sealed letter, "that I have
delivered you a vote of thanks from my medical brothers; and open
and read it at your leisure; only not just now, for I want to have
a little talk with you on my own behoof. I want to ask you a favour,
Mrs Denbigh."

"A favour!" exclaimed Ruth; "what can I do for you? I think I may say
I will do it, without hearing what it is."

"Then you're a very imprudent woman," replied he; "however, I'll take
you at your word. I want you to give me your boy."

"Leonard!"

"Aye! there it is, you see, Mr Benson. One minute she is as ready as
can be, and the next, she looks at me as if I was an ogre!"

"Perhaps we don't understand what you mean," said Mr Benson.

"The thing is this. You know I've no children; and I can't say I've
ever fretted over it much; but my wife has; and whether it is that
she has infected me, or that I grieve over my good practice going
to a stranger, when I ought to have had a son to take it after me, I
don't know; but, of late, I've got to look with covetous eyes on all
healthy boys, and at last I've settled down my wishes on this Leonard
of yours, Mrs Denbigh."

Ruth could not speak; for, even yet, she did not understand what he
meant. He went on:

"Now, how old