mother down while he
eats his dinner, and then lecture or lead his Musical Union, or conduct
a poor man's concert, or go to 'the Weaver's Union,' and what he calls
'threep them' for two or three hours that labor is ruining capital,
and killing the goose that lays golden eggs for them. Oh, they are a
wonderful race, Ruth!"

"I really can't discuss them now, Ethel."

"Don't you want to know what Tyrrel said to me this afternoon?"

"My dear, I know. Lovers have said such things before, and lovers will
say them evermore. You shall tell me in the morning. I thought he looked
distrait and bored with our company."

Indeed, Tyrrel was so remarkably quiet that John Thomas also noticed his
mood, and as they sat smoking in Tyrrel's room, he resolved to find out
the reason, and with his usual directness asked:

"What do you think of Ethel Rawdon, Tyrrel."

"I think she is the most beautiful woman I ever saw. She has also the
most sincere nature, and her high spirit is sweetly tempered by her
affectionate heart."

"I am glad you know so much about her. Look here, Cousin Tyrrel, I
fancied to-night you were a bit jealous of me. It is easy to see you are
in love, and I've no doubt you were thinking of the days when you would
be thousands of miles away, and I should have the ground clear and so
on, eh?"

"Suppose I was, cousin, what then?"

"You would be worrying for nothing. I don't want to marry Ethel Rawdon.
If I did, you would have to be on the ground all the time, and then I
should best you; but I picked out my wife two years ago, and if we are
both alive and well, we are going to be married next Christmas."

"I am delighted. I----"

"I thought you would be."

"Who is the young lady?"

"Miss Lucy Watson. Her father is the Independent minister. He is a
gentleman, though his salary is less than we give our overseer. And he
is a great scholar. So is Lucy. She finished her course at college this
summer, and with high honors. Bless you, Tyrrel, she knows far more
than I do about everything but warps and looms and such like. I admire a
clever woman, and I'm proud of Lucy."

"Where is she now?"

"Well, she was a bit done up with so much study, and so she went to
Scarborough for a few weeks. She has an aunt there. The sea breezes and
salt water soon made her fit for anything. She may be home very soon
now. Then, Tyrrel, you'll see a beauty--face like a rose, hair brown as
a nut, eyes that make your heart go galloping,