ighty matter
of the linen to adorn the festal board that evening and on
Christmas Day itself, the pair stole quietly off about eleven
o'clock, leaving word with Martin in passing out that they would be
back before dark.

Cherry danced along as though she had wings to her feet, as they
quitted the bridge and plunged into the narrow but bustling and
busy streets. She had always been kept rigorously at home on all
occasions of public rejoicing and merriment, and it was a perfect
delight to her to see the holiday look about the passers by, and
exchange friendly good wishes with such acquaintances as she met by
the way. She had put on her best gown, and a little ruff round her
neck: her aunt would not let her wear such "gewgaws" in a general
way, but the girl loved to fabricate them out of odds and ends, in
imitation of the ladies she saw passing in the street. She wore the
gray cloak and hood she had had on when first Cuthbert had come to
her assistance by the river, and her rosy laughing face peeped
roguishly out from the warm and becoming head gear. But suddenly,
as they were passing a house in East Cheape, she paused and glanced
up at Cuthbert with a bewitching little look of pleading.

"Wait but here for me a little five minutes," she said; "I have an
errand to my cousin Rachel."

She was gone in a moment, slipping through the open door and
leaving Cuthbert outside in the street. He knew the house for her
uncle Dyson's, and was in no way alarmed about her. Nor was she
long in rejoining him again. But when she came out, laughing,
blushing, and dimpling, he scarce knew her for the moment, so
transformed was she; and he stood perfectly mute before the radiant
young vision his eyes encountered.

The sober black under-petticoat had been replaced by one of vivid
scarlet taffeta, quilted with elaboration, and further adorned with
embroidery in white silk. The gray upper robe was the same as
before, the soft stuff and quiet tone harmonizing and contrasting
well with the bright hue of the petticoat. The little feet were
encased in the daintiest of strong buckled shoes, and in scarlet
hose to match the quilted skirt; whilst the cloak and hood were now
of soft white lamb's-wool cloth, such as Abraham Dyson made a
specialty of in his business; and the vivid delicate colour upon
the girl's laughing face as it peeped out of the snowy hood was set
off to the greatest possible advantage by the pure white frame, so
suited to the