ht of blood and rating our skins a hantle higher nor our lives; and
as for hanging, while she is a fixing of the nail and a making of the
noose she has time t' alter her mind. But a jump into a canal is no more
than into bed; and the water it does all the lave, will ye, nill ye.
Why, look at me, the mother o' nine, wasn't I agog to make a hole in our
canal for the nonce?"

"Nay, mother, I'll never believe it of you."

"Ye may, though. 'Twas in the first year of our keeping house together.
Eli hadn't found out my weak stitches then, nor I his; so we made a
rent, pulling contrariwise; had a quarrel. So then I ran crying, to tell
some gabbling fool like myself what I had no business to tell out o'
doors except to the saints, and there was one of our precious canals in
the way; do they take us for teal? Oh, how tempting it did look! Says I
to myself, 'Sith he has let me go out of his door quarrelled, he shall
see me drowned next, and then he will change his key. He will blubber
a good one, and I shall look down from heaven' (I forgot I should be in
t'other part), 'and see him take on, and oh, but that will be sweet!'
and I was all a tiptoe and going in, only just then I thought I
wouldn't. I had got a new gown a making, for one thing, and hard upon
finished. So I went home instead, and what was Eli's first word, 'Let
yon flea stick i' the wall, my lass,' says he. 'Not a word of all I said
t' anger thee was sooth, but this, "I love thee."' These were his very
words; I minded 'em, being the first quarrel. So I flung my arms about
his neck and sobbed a bit, and thought o' the canal; and he was no
colder to me than I to him, being a man and a young one; and so then
that was better than lying in the water; and spoiling my wedding kirtle
and my fine new shoon, old John Bush made 'em, that was uncle to him
keeps the shop now. And what was my grief to hers?"

Little Kate hoped that Margaret loved her father too much to think of
leaving him so at his age. "He is father and mother and all to her, you
know."

"Nay, Kate, they do forget all these things in a moment o' despair when
the very sky seems black above them. I place more faith in him that
is unborn, than on him that is ripe for the grave, to keep her out o'
mischief. For certes it do go sore against us to die when there's a
little innocent a pulling at our hearts to let 'un live, and feeding at
our very veins."

"Well, then, keep up a good heart, mother." She added, that