t is the
family motto. The Trouts have had large families and good luck for
generations; that is, till your grandfather's time. He had one only
son. I married him. He was a good husband, but he had been a spoilt
child. He had always been used to be waited upon, and he couldn't fash
to look after the farm when it was his own. We had six children. They
are all dead but you, who were the youngest. You were bound to a
tailor. When the farm came into your hands, your wife died, and you
have never looked up since. The land is sold now, but not the house.
No! no! you're right enough there; but you've had your troubles, son
Thomas, and the lads _are_ idle!"

It was the Tailor's mother who spoke. She was a very old woman, and
helpless. She was not quite so bright in her intellect as she had been,
and got muddled over things that had lately happened; but she had a
clear memory for what was long past, and was very pertinacious in her
opinions. She knew the private history of almost every family in the
place, and who of the Trouts were buried under which old stones in the
churchyard; and had more tales of ghosts, doubles, warnings, fairies,
witches, hobgoblins, and such like, than even her grandchildren had
ever come to the end of. Her hands trembled with age, and she regretted
this for nothing more than for the danger it brought her into of
spilling the salt. She was past housework, but all day she sat knitting
hearth-rugs out of the bits and scraps of cloth that were shred in the
tailoring. How far she believed in the wonderful tales she told, and
the odd little charms she practised, no one exactly knew; but the older
she grew, the stranger were the things she remembered, and the more
testy she was if any one doubted their truth. "Bairns are a blessing!"
said she. "It is the family motto."

"_Are they_?" said the Tailor emphatically.

He had a high respect for his mother, and did not like to contradict
her, but he held his own opinion, based upon personal experience; and
not being a metaphysician, did not understand that it is safer to found
opinions on principles than on experience, since experience may alter,
but principles cannot.

"Look at Tommy," he broke out suddenly. "That boy does nothing but
whittle sticks from morning till night. I have almost to lug him out of
bed o' mornings. If I send him an errand, he loiters; I'd better have
gone myself. If I set him to do anything, I have to tell him
everything; I could soone