"

"Did I?"

"Yes; you said he was welcome to come whenever he pleased, and that
you believed him to be a very good young man."

"And so I do. Why should he be anything else?"

"I don't say that he's anything else; but, mamma--"

"Well, my dear."

"What shall I say to him if he does ask me that question? He has
called me by my name two or three times, and spoken to me as though
he wanted me to like him. If he does say anything to me like that,
what shall I answer?"

"If you think you don't like him well enough, you must tell him so,
of course."

"Yes, of course I must." Then Rachel was silent for a minute or
two. She had not as yet received the full answer which she desired.
In such an alternative as that which her mother had suggested, we
may say that she would have known how to frame her answer to the
young man without any advice from her mother. But there was another
alternative as to which she thought it well that she should have her
mother's judgment and opinion. "But, mamma, I think I do like him,"
said Rachel, burying her face.

"I'm sure I don't wonder at it," said Mrs. Ray, "for I like him very
much. He has a way with him so much nicer than most of the young men
now; and then, he's very well off, which, after all, must count for
something. A young woman should never fall in love with a man who
can't earn his bread, not if he was ever so religious or steady. And
he's very good-looking, too. Good looks are only skin-deep I know,
and they won't bring much comfort when sorrow comes; but I do own I
love to look on a young fellow with a sonsy face and a quick lively
step. Mr. Comfort seemed to think it would do very well if there was
to be any such thing; and if he's not able to tell, I'm sure I don't
know who ought to be. And nothing could be fairer than his coming out
here and telling me first. There's so many of them are sly; but there
was nothing sly about that."

In this way, with many more rambling words, with many kisses also,
and with some tears, Rachel Ray received from her mother permission
to regard Luke Rowan as her lover.

CHAPTER XIII.

MR. TAPPITT IN HIS COUNTING-HOUSE.

Luke Rowan, when he left the cottage, walked quickly back across the
green towards Baslehurst. He had sauntered out slowly on his road
from the brewery to Bragg's End, being in doubt as to what he would
do when he reached his destination; but there was no longer room for
doubt now; he had said that to Rachel'