man do
anything if you only give your mind to it and take your time and
keep all on. It was called the great Fytche sale, and I made him pay
the money he got for it into the bank; and when he died I bought a
snug little farm with it, and married a young man that I had had in
my eye long before I had heard of Mr. Fytche.

And we are very comfortably off, and not a bit of china in the house
that's more than twenty years old, so that whatever's broke can be
easy replaced.

As for his collection, which would have brought me in thousands of
pounds, they say, I have to own he had the better of me there, for
he left it by will to the South Kensington Museum.

BARRING THE WAY

I DON'T know how she could have done it. I couldn't have done it
myself. At least, I don't think so. But being lame and small, and
not noticeable anyhow, I had never any temptation, so I can't judge
those that have.

Ellen was tall and a slight figure, and as pretty as a picture in
her Sunday clothes, and prettier than any picture on a working day,
with her sleeves rolled up to her shoulder and the colour in her
face like a rose, and her brown, hair all twisted up rough anyhow;
and, of course, she was much sought after and flattered. But I
couldn't have done it myself, I think, even if I had been sought
after twice as much and twice as handsome. No, I couldn't, not after
the doctor had said that father's heart was weak, and any sudden
shock might bring an end to him.

But, oh! poor dear, she was my sister--my own only sister--and it's
not the time now to be hard on her, and she where she is.

She was walking regular with a steady young man, who worked through
the week at Hastings, and come home here on a Sunday, and she would
have married him and been as happy as a queen, I know; and all her
looking in the glass, and dressing herself pretty, would have come
to being proud of her babies and spending what bits she could get
together in making them look smart; but it was not to be.

Young Barber, the grocer's son, who had a situation in London, he
come down for his summer holiday, and then it was 'No, thank you
kindly,' to poor Arthur Simmons, that had loved her faithful and
true them two years, and she was all for walking with young Mr.
Barber, besides running into the shop twenty times a day when no
occasion was, just for a word across the counter.

And father wasn't the best pleased, but he was always a silent man,
very pious, and not