ederic so well
that I never mean him to have a rival. No; you shall remain my cousin.
Cousins often love as well as sisters and brothers."

"And sometimes a great deal better," said Frederic, laughing. "But since
you have made up your mind to love Anthony, sit down and give us another
cup of tea."

"There is some one below-stairs, Mr. Anthony, who loves you at any
rate," continued Clary, after handing the gentlemen their replenished
cups. "One who is quite impatient to see you, who is never tired of
talking about you, and calls you her dear boy, and says that she never
loved any of her own sons better than you."

"Ruth! is she here? Let me see her directly," said Anthony, rising from
the table.

"Sit down, Mr. Hurdlestone. I will ring the bell for her. She can speak
to you here."

In a few minutes, a plainly-dressed, middle-aged woman entered the room.

"My dear foster-mother! Is that you?" said Anthony, springing to meet
her.

"Why yees, Muster Anthony," said the honest creature, flinging her arms
round his neck, and imprinting on either cheek a kiss that rang through
the room; while she laughed and cried in the same breath. "The Lord love
you! How you bees grown. Is this here fine young gentleman the poor
half-starved little chap that used to come begging to Ruth Candler for a
sup o' milk and a morsel o' bread? Well, yer bees a man now, and able to
shift for yoursel, whiles I be a poor old woman, half killed by poverty
and hard work. When you come in for your great fortin, don't forget old
Ruth."

"Indeed I will not, my good mother; if ever that day arrives, I shall
know how to reward my old friends. But you make a strange mistake, Ruth,
when you call yourself old. You look as young as ever. And how are all
my old play-fellows?"

"Some dead; some in service; and my eldest gal, Mr. Anthony, is married
to a Methody parson, only think, my Sally, the wife of a Methody
parson."

"She was a good girl."

"Oh, about as good as the rest on us. And, pray, how do old Shock come
along? Is the old dog dead?"

"Of old age, Ruth. He got so fat and sleek in my uncle's house, you
never would have known the poor starved brute."

"In truth, you were a poverty pair--jist a bag o' bones the twain o' ye.
I wonder the old Squire warn't ashamed to see you walk the earth. An'
they do tell me, Measter Anthony, that he be jist as stingy as ever."

"Age seldom improves avarice."

"Why, nothing gets the better for being older