irit will be here."

"Well said, old Moll; we shall have the best part of him to-night in
spite of the Atlantic Ocean," cried the blacksmith, who was seated on a
stool making fun with the terrier, the cat, and the kitten--not the
original animals, of course, but the lineal descendants of those which
were introduced at the beginning of our tale.

"I hope they won't be late," remarked Mrs Thorogood, looking with some
anxiety into a big pot which rested on the roaring fire.

"The boys are never late, Moll," remarked the smith, giving the cat a
sly poke on the nose, which it resented with a fuff, causing the terrier
to turn its head on one side inquiringly.

As he spoke the front door opened, and feet were heard in the passage
stamping off the snow.

"There they are!" exclaimed old Moll, slipping the lid on the big pot,
and wiping her hands hastily.

"No, it is too soon for them yet; they're always sharp to time. It is
Fred," said Molly with a quiet smile.

She was right. Fred Harper, a fine strapping young fellow--a
carpenter--had met Molly in London, and got engaged to her. She offered
to let him off when she became ill and delicate, but he would not be let
off. "Molly," this enthusiast had said, "if you were to become so thin
that all your flesh were to disappear, I'd be proud to marry your
skeleton!"

Fred sat down by her side, but had scarcely begun to make earnest
inquiries after her health, when the outer door again opened, and
another stamping of feet was heard in the passage. It was a tremendous
stamping, and accompanied with strong, loud, manly voices.

"No mistake now!" said the smith, rising and opening the door, when in
walked four such men as any father and mother might be proud of. It was
not that they were big--plenty of blockheads are big: nor was it that
they were handsome--plenty of nincompoops are well-favoured; but,
besides being tall, and strong, and handsome, they were free, and
hearty, and sensible, and wise--even in their joviality--and so
thorough-going in word, sentiment, and act, that it was quite a pleasure
merely to sit still and watch them, and listen.

"I told 'ee they'd come in their togs, old woman," said the smith, as
his son Tom appeared, dusting the snow from his Coastguard uniform, on
the breast of which was displayed the gold medal of the Royal National
Lifeboat Institution.

"You might be sure of that, mother, seeing that we had promised," said
Dick, the blithe and