to
know who could help it.

"That's the very thing she won't do," said I, knowing that Annie would
love me all the more for it, "she is only beginning to like me, Annie;
and as for loving, she is so young that she only loves her grandfather.
But I hope she will come to it by-and-by."

"Of course she must," replied my sister, "it will be impossible for her
to help it."

"Ah well! I don't know," for I wanted more assurance of it. "Maidens are
such wondrous things!"

[Illustration: 253.jpg Maidens are such wondrous things]

"Not a bit of it," said Annie, casting her bright eyes downwards: "love
is as simple as milking, when people know how to do it. But you must not
let her alone too long; that is my advice to you. What a simpleton you
must have been not to tell me long ago. I would have made Lorna wild
about you, long before this time, Johnny. But now you go into the
parlour, dear, while I do your collop. Faith Snowe is not come, but
Polly and Sally. Sally has made up her mind to conquer you this very
blessed evening, John. Only look what a thing of a scarf she has on; I
should be quite ashamed to wear it. But you won't strike poor Tom, will
you?"

"Not I, my darling, for your sweet sake."

And so dear Annie, having grown quite brave, gave me a little push into
the parlour, where I was quite abashed to enter after all I had heard
about Sally. And I made up my mind to examine her well, and try a little
courting with her, if she should lead me on, that I might be in practice
for Lorna. But when I perceived how grandly and richly both the
young damsels were apparelled; and how, in their curtseys to me, they
retreated, as if I were making up to them, in a way they had learned
from Exeter; and how they began to talk of the Court, as if they had
been there all their lives, and the latest mode of the Duchess of this,
and the profile of the Countess of that, and the last good saying of my
Lord something; instead of butter, and cream, and eggs, and things
which they understood; I knew there must be somebody in the room besides
Jasper Kebby to talk at.

And so there was; for behind the curtain drawn across the window-seat no
less a man than Uncle Ben was sitting half asleep and weary; and by his
side a little girl very quiet and very watchful. My mother led me to
Uncle Ben, and he took my hand without rising, muttering something not
over-polite, about my being bigger than ever. I asked him heartily how
he was, and he sai