me! Oh, Annie, it was wrong of you!'

'But, darling, you know that mother wishes you so much to marry Sally;
and I am sure you could have her to-morrow. She dotes on the very
ground--'

'I dare say he tells you that, Annie, that he dotes on the ground you
walk upon--but did you believe him, child?'

'You may believe me, I assure you, John, and half the farm to be settled
upon her, after the old man's time; and though she gives herself little
airs, it is only done to entice you; she has the very best hand in the
dairy John, and the lightest at a turn-over cake--'

'Now, Annie, don't talk nonsense so. I wish just to know the truth about
you and Tom Faggus. Do you mean to marry him?'

'I to marry before my brother, and leave him with none to take care of
him! Who can do him a red deer collop, except Sally herself, as I can?
Come home, dear, at once, and I will do you one; for you never ate a
morsel of supper, with all the people you had to attend upon.'

This was true enough; and seeing no chance of anything more than cross
questions and crooked purposes, at which a girl was sure to beat me,
I even allowed her to lead me home, with the thoughts of the collop
uppermost. But I never counted upon being beaten so thoroughly as I was;
for knowing me now to be off my guard, the young hussy stopped at
the farmyard gate, as if with a brier entangling her, and while I
was stooping to take it away, she looked me full in the face by the
moonlight, and jerked out quite suddenly,--

'Can your love do a collop, John?'

'No, I should hope not,' I answered rashly; 'she is not a mere cook-maid
I should hope.'

'She is not half so pretty as Sally Snowe; I will answer for that,' said
Annie.

'She is ten thousand times as pretty as ten thousand Sally Snowes,' I
replied with great indignation.

'Oh, but look at Sally's eyes!' cried my sister rapturously.

'Look at Lorna Doone's,' said I; 'and you would never look again at
Sally's.'

'Oh Lorna Doone. Lorna Doone!' exclaimed our Annie half-frightened, yet
clapping her hands with triumph, at having found me out so: 'Lorna Doone
is the lovely maiden, who has stolen poor somebody's heart so. Ah, I
shall remember it; because it is so queer a name. But stop, I had better
write it down. Lend me your hat, poor boy, to write on.'

'I have a great mind to lend you a box on the ear,' I answered her in
my vexation, 'and I would, if you had not been crying so, you sly
good-for-nothing bag