unlucky little snapper? Now, no more nursery talk for me. I will go and
settle this business. You had better go and dress your dolls; if you can
give them clothes unpoisoned.' Hereupon Lizzie burst into a perfect roar
of tears; feeling that she had the worst of it. And I took her up, and
begged her pardon; although she scarcely deserved it; for she knew that
I was out of luck, and she might have spared her satire.

I was almost sure that the man who was come must be the Counsellor
himself; of whom I felt much keener fear than of his son Carver. And
knowing that his visit boded ill to me and Lorna, I went and sought
my dear; and led her with a heavy heart, from the maiden's room to
mother's, to meet our dreadful visitor.

Mother was standing by the door, making curtseys now and then, and
listening to a long harangue upon the rights of state and land, which
the Counsellor (having found that she was the owner of her property, and
knew nothing of her title to it) was encouraged to deliver it. My dear
mother stood gazing at him, spell-bound by his eloquence, and only
hoping that he would stop. He was shaking his hair upon his shoulders,
in the power of his words, and his wrath at some little thing, which he
declared to be quite illegal.

Then I ventured to show myself, in the flesh, before him; although he
feigned not to see me; but he advanced with zeal to Lorna; holding out
both hands at once.

'My darling child, my dearest niece; how wonderfully well you look!
Mistress Ridd, I give you credit. This is the country of good things. I
never would have believed our Queen could have looked so royal. Surely
of all virtues, hospitality is the finest, and the most romantic.
Dearest Lorna, kiss your uncle; it is quite a privilege.'

'Perhaps it is to you, sir,' said Lorna, who could never quite check her
sense of oddity; 'but I fear that you have smoked tobacco, which spoils
reciprocity.'

'You are right, my child. How keen your scent is! It is always so with
us. Your grandfather was noted for his olfactory powers. Ah, a great
loss, dear Mrs. Ridd, a terrible loss to this neighbourhood! As one of
our great writers says--I think it must be Milton--"We ne'er shall look
upon his like again."'

'With your good leave sir,' I broke in, 'Master Milton could never
have written so sweet and simple a line as that. It is one of the great
Shakespeare.'

'Woe is me for my neglect!' said the Counsellor, bowing airily; 'this
must be y