fresh subject for conversation
was worth quite that to her. "And is it true, as our Seth said, that
you've a fine house and a park in Northamptonshire come to you, and
fifteen hundred head o' red deer and a lake to fish in?"

"Quite true," said Robert Lewthwaite, with a grave bow, "allowing, my
mistress, of four corrections: there is not a park, it is not in
Northamptonshire, there be no red deer, and the lake 'longeth not to the
house."

"And jewels worth ever so many thousands, as our Ben saith, for Mistress
Lettice, and ten Barbary horses o' th' best, and a caroche fine enough
for the King's Majesty?"

"Ah, I would that last were true," said Edith.

"My mistress, the Barbary horses be all there saving ten, and the
caroche is a-building in the air: as to the jewels, seeing they be
Mistress Lettice's, I leave her to reply."

Lettice was in no condition to do it, for she was suffering torments
from suppressed laughter. Her Uncle Robert's preternatural gravity, and
Mrs Abbott's total incapacity to see the fun, were barely endurable.

"Eh, but you will be mortal fine!" said Mrs Abbott, turning her
artillery on the afflicted Lettice. "I only wish our Mall had such a
chance. If she--"

"Mrs Abbott, I cry you mercy, but here comes your Caleb," said Hans
calmly. "I reckon he shall be after you."

"I reckon he shall, the caitiff! That man o' mine, he's for ever and
the day after a-sending the childer after me."

"I rejoice to hear you have so loving an husband," Mr Lewthwaite was
sufficiently inconsiderate to respond.

"Eh, bless you, there's no love about it. Just like them men! they'd
shut a woman's mouth up as tight as a fish, and never give her no leave
to speak a word, if they had their way. But I'm not one of your meek
bag-puddings, that'll take any shape you pinch 'em,--not I, forsooth;
and he knows it. I'll have my say, soon or late, and Prissy, she's a
downright chatterbox. Not that I'm that, you know--not a bit of it: but
Prissy, she is; and I can tell you, when Prissy and Dorcas and Ben
they're all at it, the house isn't over quiet, for none on 'em hearkens
what t'others are saying, and their father whacks 'em by times--ay, he
doth! Now, Caleb, what's to do?"

"Nothing particular, Mother," said slow, deliberate Caleb through the
open window: "only there's yon pedlar with the mercery, and he willn't
tarry only ten minutes more--"

"Thou lack-halter rascal, and ne'er told me while I asked th