th her child in her arms.
In the evening her pace was slower, for she was tired, and the road was
hard to climb, and the child, generally asleep, weighed heavily. For
the baby was getting beyond a baby now; she was nearly two years old.
How pretty she was, how clever, what dear little knowing ways she had,
what tiny feet and hands! How yellow her hair was, how white her skin!
She was unlike any child in Haworth; she was matchless!

And indeed, quite apart from her mother's fond admiration, the baby was
a beautiful child, delicately formed, and very different from the
blunt-featured children of those parts; she was petted by everyone in
the village, and had in consequence such proud, imperious little ways
that she was a sort of small queen there; the biggest and roughest man
among them was her humble subject, and ready to do her bidding when she
wished to be tossed in the air or to ride pickaback. She could say very
few words yet, but nothing could exceed her brightness and
intelligence--a wonderful baby indeed!

She had been christened Betty; but the name was almost forgotten in all
sorts of loving nicknames, and lately the people of Haworth had given
her a new one, which she got in the following manner:--

Nearly at the bottom of the steep village street there was a cobbler's
stall which Maggie passed every day in her journeys to and from
Keighley. It was open to the road, and in it hung rows and rows of
clogs of all sizes--some of them big enough to fit a man, and some for
children, quite tiny. They all had wooden soles, and toes slightly
turned-up tipped with gleaming brass, and a brass buckle on the instep;
nearly all the people in Haworth and all the factory-girls in Keighley
wore such shoes, but they were always called "clogs." Inside the stall
sat an old man with twinkling blue eyes, and a stumpy turned-up nose: he
sat and cobbled and mended, and made new clogs out of the old ones which
lay in great heaps all round him. Over his stall was the name "T Monk,"
but in the village he was always known as Tommie; and though he was a
silent and somewhat surly character, Tommie's opinion and advice were
often asked, and much valued when given. Maggie regarded him with
admiration and respect. When she passed with her child in her arms he
always looked up and nodded, though he seldom gave any other answer to
her "Good-day, Master Monk." Tommie never wasted his words: "Little
words mak' bonnie do's," he was accus