ead, and very few had been left in her grandmother's.

"I don't know what you mean, Grandmother," said Jenny, as an
accompaniment to that toss.

"O Jenny, Jenny! what a shocking thing of you to say, when you knew what
your grandmother meant as well as you knew your name was Jane Lavender!"

"I rather think thou dost, my lass," said old Mrs Lavender quietly.

"Well, I suppose you mean to run down Mr Featherstone," said Jenny,
pouting. "You're always running him down. And there isn't a bit of use
in it--not with me. I like him, and I always shall. He's such a
gentleman, and always so soft-spoken. But I believe you like that
clod-hopper Tom Fenton, ever so much better. I can't abide him."

"There's a deal more of the feather than the stone about Robin
Featherstone, lass. If he be a stone, he's a rolling one. Hasn't he
been in three places since he came here?"

"Yes, because they didn't use him right in none of 'em. Wanted him to
do things out of his place, and such like. Why, at Hampstead Hall, they
set him to chop wood."

"Well, why not?" asked Mrs Lavender, knitting away.

"Because it wasn't his place," answered Jenny, indignantly. "It made
his hands all rough, and he's that like a gentleman he couldn't stand
it."

"Tom Fenton would have done it, I shouldn't wonder."

"As if it would have mattered to Tom Fenton, with his great red hands!
They couldn't be no rougher than they are, if he chopped wood while
Christmas. Besides, it's his trade--wood-chopping is. Mr
Featherstone's some'at better nor a carpenter."

"They're honest hands, if they are red, Jenny."

"And he's a cast in his eyes."

"Scarcely. Anyhow, he's none in his heart."

"And his nose turns up!"

"Not as much as thine, Jenny."

"Mine!" cried Jenny, in angry amazement, "Grandmother, what will you say
next? My nose is as straight as--as the church tower."

"Maybe it is, in general, my lass. But just now thou art turning it up
at poor Tom."

"`Poor Tom,' indeed!" said Jenny, in a disgusted tone. "He'd best not
come after me, or I'll `poor Tom' him. I want none of him, I can tell
you."

"Well, Jenny, don't lose thy temper over Tom, or Robin either. Thou'rt
like the most of maids--they'll never heed the experience of old folks.
If thou wilt not be `ruled by the rudder, thou must be ruled by the
rock.' `All is not gold that glitters,' and I'm afeard thou shalt find
it so, poor soul! But I can't put wisdom into thee; I can