your
beggarly apartments there, as you know. And now you can do nothing
better than bring her here to fash the life out of me before the week's
over! But that's always the way with you men. You talk precious big, but
it's mighty little you put your hands to; and when you hack out yokes
for which you get a deal of praise, you take care not to bear them on
your own backs. It's us women who have to do that."

"One would have supposed you would have liked a pretty young thing like
that in the house. You are lonesome enough here, and it makes a little
life," said Emmanuel quietly.

He knew his sister Keziah, and that she must have her head when the
talking fit was on her.

"'A pretty young thing like that!'" she repeated scornfully. "Lord love
you, born cuddy as you are! What's her good looks to me, I wonder, but a
pound spent on a looking-glass, and Jenny taken off her work to make
cakes and butter-sops for her dainty teeth? We'll have all the men-folk
too havering round to see which of 'em may have the honor of ruining
himself for my fine lady. And I'll not have it, I tell ye. I'll not have
my house turned into a fair, with madam there as the show. Life! what do
I want with 'life' about me, or you either, Emmanuel? I've got my right
foot in the grave, and I reckon yours is not far off; and what we've
both got to do now is to see that we make a good ending for our souls."

"At all events, you don't refuse to take her for a week or two?" asked
Emmanuel innocently.

"Did I say I refused? Did I send her up stairs as the nighest road to
the street-door?" retorted his sister with disdain. "Did I not tell you,
as plain as tongue could speak, that she is welcome to her bit and sup,
and I'll pass the time away for her in the best way I can, though bad is
the best, I reckon?"

"Well, well, you are a good body," said her brother.

"Ay," she answered, "I am good enough when I jump your way. But tell me,
Emmanuel," changing from the disdain of the superior creature holding
forth on high matters to the inferior to the familiar gossip of the
natural woman, "what's to do with her? It's as plain as a pike-staff
that something is troubling her, and maybe it will be some of your love
nonsense? for it's mainly that as fashes the lasses. Good Lord! I'm
thankful I was never hindered that way."

"Yes," said Mr. Gryce, "she has had what you women call a
disappointment; and," speaking with unusual energy, "the man was a fool
and a coward