come too. She won't leave Sylvia."

"The house is big enough. Bring Mrs. Tawsey also--I'm rather anxious to
see her. And Sylvia will be a good companion for your mother."

So matters were arranged in this way, and when Paul returned to town he
went at once to tell Sylvia of the reconciliation. He found her, propped
up with pillows, seated by the fire, looking much better, although she
was still thin and rather haggard. Deborah hovered round her and spoke
in a cautious whisper, which was more annoying than a loud voice would
have been. Sylvia flushed with joy when she saw Paul, and flushed still
more when she heard the good news.

"I am so glad, darling," she said, holding Paul's hand in her thin ones.
"I should not have liked our marriage to have kept you from your
father."

Mrs. Tawsey snorted. "His frantic par," she said, "ah, well, when I meet
'im, if he dares to say a word agin my pretty--"

"My father is quite ready to welcome her as a daughter," said Paul,
quickly.

"An' no poor one either," cried Deborah, triumphantly. "Five thousand a
year, as that nice young man Mr. Ford have told us is right. Lor'! my
lovely queen, you'll drive in your chariot and forget Debby."

"You foolish old thing," said the girl, fondly, "you held to me in my
troubles and you shall share in my joy."

"Allays purvidin' I don't 'ave to leave the laundry in charge of Bart
an' Mrs. Purr, both bein' infants of silliness, one with gin and t'other
with weakness of brain. It's well I made Bart promise to love, honor and
obey me, Mr. Beecot, the same as you must do to my own lily flower
there."

"No, _I_ am to love, honor and obey Paul," cried Sylvia.

"When?" he asked, taking her in his arms.

"As soon as I can stand at the altar," she replied, blushing, whereat
Deborah clapped her hands.

"Weddin's an' weddin's an' weddin's agin," cried Mrs. Tawsey, "which my
sister Matilder being weary of 'er spinstering 'ome 'ave made up 'er
mind to marry the fust as offers. An' won't she lead 'im a dance
neither--oh, no, not at all."

"Well, Deborah," said Beecot, "we have much to be thankful for, all of
us. Let us try and show our gratitude in our lives."

"Ah, well, you may say that," sighed Mrs. Tawsey, in a devout manner.
"Who'd ha' thought things would have turned out so 'appy-like indeed.
But you go on with your billin', my lovely ones, and I'll git th'
mutting broth to put color int' my pretty's cheeks," and she bustled
out.

Sylv