thee what--if some o' them fighting fellows
as goes up and down a-seeking for adventures, 'd just take off Ankaret
and Mildred--well, I don't know about El'nor: she's been better o'
late--and eh, but they couldn't take Her, or I'd ha' given th' cow into
th' bargain, and been right glad on't--and if me and Emma and Bertha
could ha' settled down in a bit of a house somewhere, and been
peaceable--Come, it's no use hankering over things as can't be.
Elsewise, I'd ha' said a chap might ha' had a bit o' comfort then."

"Uncle Dan, did you ever think of praying that Aunt Filomena might have
a better temper?"

"Ever think of what?" demanded Uncle Dan in the biggest capitals ever
seen on a placard.

"You know God could make her temper sweet, Uncle Dan."

"Thou believes that, does thou?"

"I do."

"So will I--when I see't. I reckon I'll have a rare capful o' larks by
th' sky falling, first."

"The sky will fall some day, my son," said the voice of Father Thomas,
behind Dan. His soft rap had been unheard through Dan's bass voice, and
he had entered unperceived.

"Well, Father, you should know the rights on't," was Dan's answer, with
a pull at his hair. "Being a priest, I reckon you're good friends wi'
th' angels and th' sky and all that sort of thing; but--I ask your
pardon, Father, but She belongs to t'other lot, and you don't know her.
Eh, you don't, so!"

And with an ominous shake of his head, and a good-night to Avice and
Bertha, Dan passed out.

"Our Lord could do that, Father?" said Avice softly.

"Certainly, my daughter. `Whatsoever the Lord pleased, that did He--in
the heavens, and in the earth, and in the sea, and in all depths.'"

Father Thomas had not much of the Bible--only one Gospel and a Book of
Psalms--but what he had he studied well. And one page of the Word of
God will do a great deal for a man, with the Spirit of God to bring it
home to a willing ear and a loving heart.

"May I pray for Aunt Filomena? I am so sorry for Uncle Dan. He is not
a bad man, and she makes his home unbearable."

"God forgive her! By all means pray for both."

CHAPTER SEVEN.

A SPICE OF PHILOSOPHY.

While Dan was thus detailing his troubles in Avice's kitchen, his
daughter Emma was finishing her day's work. She was apprenticed to an
embroideress; for all kinds of embroidery were in much greater use then
than now. There was no sort of trimming except embroidery and fur;
there were no such things as prin