the most enticing mouth,
the prettiest figure, and she loves me with all her heart. When she says
'John Thomas, dear one,' I tremble with pleasure, and when she lets me
kiss her sweet mouth, I really don't know where I am. What would you say
if a girl whispered, 'I love you, and nobody but you,' and gave you a
kiss that was like--like wine and roses? Now what would you say?"

"I know as little as you do what I would say. It's a situation to make a
man coin new words. I suppose your family are pleased."

"Well, I never thought about my family till I had Lucy's word. Then I
told mother. She knew Lucy all through. Mother has a great respect for
Independents, and though father sulked a bit at first, mother had it
out with him one night, and when mother has father quiet in their room
father comes to see things just as she wants him. I suppose that's the
way with wives. Lucy will be just like that. She's got a sharp little
temper, too. She'll let me have a bit of it, no doubt, now and then."

"Will you like that?"

"I wouldn't care a farthing for a wife without a bit of temper. There
would be no fun in living with a woman of that kind. My father would
droop and pine if mother didn't spur him on now and then. And he likes
it. Don't I know? I've seen mother snappy and awkward with him all
breakfast time, tossing her head, and rattling the china, and declaring
she was worn out with men that let all the good bargains pass them;
perhaps making fun of us because we couldn't manage to get along without
strikes. She had no strikes with her hands, she'd like to see her women
stand up and talk to her about shorter hours, and so on; and father
would look at me sly-like, and as we walked to the mill together he'd
laugh contentedly and say, 'Your mother was quite refreshing this
morning, John Thomas. She has keyed me up to a right pitch. When
Jonathan Arkroyd comes about that wool he sold us I'll be all ready
for him.' So you see I'm not against a sharp temper. I like women as
Tennyson says English girls are, 'roses set round with little wilful
thorns,' eh?"

Unusual as this conversation was, its general tone was assumed by Ethel
in her confidential talk with Ruth the following day. Of course, Ruth
was not at all surprised at the news Ethel brought her, for though the
lovers had been individually sure they had betrayed their secret to
no one, it had really been an open one to Ruth since the hour of their
meeting. She was sincerely ar