ng soon," she added, with great cheerfulness. "Did you
know? Grand says he hopes he shall go soon."

"How did Emily look?" asked Miss Christie, when John came home.

"Better than usual, I think," said John carelessly. "There's no
bitterness in her sorrow, poor thing! She laughed several times at
Nancy's childish talk."

"She looks a great deal too young and attractive to live alone," said
Miss Christie pointedly.

"Well," answered John, "she need not do that long. There are several
fellows about here, who, unless they are greater fools than I take them
for, will find her, as a well-endowed young widow, quite as attractive
as they did when she was an almost portionless girl."

"But in the meantime?" said Miss Christie.

"If you are going to say anything that I shall hate to hear," answered
John, half-laughing, "don't keep me lingering long. If you mean to leave
me, say so at once, and put me out of my misery."

"Well, well," said Miss Christie, looking at him with some pleasure, and
more admiration, "I've been torn in pieces for several weeks past,
thinking it over. Never shall I have my own way again in any man's
house, or woman's either, as I have had it here. And the use of the
carriage and the top of the pew," she continued, speaking; to herself as
much as to him; "and the keys; and I always _knew_ I was welcome, which
is more than being told so. And I thank ye, John Mortimer, for it all, I
do indeed; but if my niece's daughter is wanting me, what can I do but
go to her?"

"It was very base of Emily not to say a word about it," said John,
smiling with as much grimness as utter want of practice, together with
the natural cast of his countenance, would admit of.

Miss Christie looked up, and saw with secret joy the face she admired
above all others coloured with a sudden flush of most unfeigned
vexation. John gave the footstool before him a little shove of
impatience, and it rolled over quite unknown to him, and lighted on Miss
Christie's corns.

She scarcely felt the pain. It was sweet to be of so much importance.
Two people contending for one lonely, homely old woman.

"Say the word," she presently said, "and I won't leave ye."

"No," answered John, "you ought to go to Emily. I had better say instead
that I am very sensible of the kindness you have done me in staying so
long."

"But ye won't be driven to do anything rash?" she answered, observing
that he was still a little chafed, and willing to pass