and, sitting down by the fire, began to count the
notches in a little bit of stick, which she held in her hand; and, after
she had counted them, sighed again.

'But don't be sighing, Grace, now,' said the old woman; 'sighs is bad
sauce for the traveller's supper; and we won't be troubling him with
more,' added she, turning to Lord Colambre with a smile.

'Is your egg done to your liking?'

'Perfectly, thank you.'

'Then I wish it was a chicken for your sake, which it should have been,
and roast too, had we time. I wish I could see you eat another egg.'

'No more, thank you, my good lady; I never ate a better supper, nor
received a more hospitable welcome.'

'Oh, the welcome is all we have to offer.'

'May I ask what that is?' said Lord Colambre, looking at the notched
stick, which the young woman held in her hand, and on which her eyes
were still fixed.

It's a TALLY, plase your honour. Oh, you're a foreigner;--it's the way
the labourers do keep the account of the day's work with the overseer,
the bailiff; a notch for every day the bailiff makes on his stick, and
the labourer the like on his stick, to tally; and when we come to make
up the account, it's by the notches we go. And there's been a mistake,
and is a dispute here between our boy and the overseer; and she was
counting the boy's tally, that's in bed, tired, for in troth he's
overworked.'

'Would you want anything more from me, mother?' said the girl, rising
and turning her head away.

'No, child; get away, for your heart's full.'

She went instantly.

'Is the boy her brother?' said Lord Colambre.

'No; he's her bachelor,' said the old woman, lowering her voice.

'Her bachelor?'

'That is, her sweetheart: for she is not my daughter, though you heard
her call me mother. The boy's my son; but I am afeard they must give it
up; for they're too poor, and the times is hard, and the agent's harder
than the times; there's two of them, the under and the upper; and they
grind the substance of one between them, and then blow one away like
chaff: but we'll not be talking of that to spoil your honour's night's
rest. The room's ready, and here's the rushlight.'

She showed him into a very small but neat room. 'What a
comfortable-looking bed!' said Lord Colambre.

'Ah, these red check curtains,' said she, letting them down; 'these have
lasted well; they were give me by a good friend, now far away, over the
seas--my Lady Clonbrony; and made by the prettie