that it did not hinder me from
looking out for a wife."

"And sorely he has repented marrying me," added Mrs. Yorke, who liked
occasionally to crack a dry jest against matrimony, even though it
should be at her own expense. "He has repented it in sackcloth and
ashes, Robert Moore, as you may well believe when you see his
punishment" (here she pointed to her children). "Who would burden
themselves with such a set of great, rough lads as those, if they could
help it? It is not only bringing them into the world, though that is bad
enough, but they are all to feed, to clothe, to rear, to settle in life.
Young sir, when you feel tempted to marry, think of our four sons and
two daughters, and look twice before you leap."

"I am not tempted now, at any rate. I think these are not times for
marrying or giving in marriage."

A lugubrious sentiment of this sort was sure to obtain Mrs. Yorke's
approbation. She nodded and groaned acquiescence; but in a minute she
said, "I make little account of the wisdom of a Solomon of your age; it
will be upset by the first fancy that crosses you. Meantime, sit down,
sir. You can talk, I suppose, as well sitting as standing?"

This was her way of inviting her guest to take a chair. He had no sooner
obeyed her than little Jessy jumped from her father's knee and ran into
Mr. Moore's arms, which were very promptly held out to receive her.

"You talk of marrying him," said she to her mother, quite indignantly,
as she was lifted lightly to his knee, "and he is married now, or as
good. He promised that I should be his wife last summer, the first time
he saw me in my new white frock and blue sash. Didn't he, father?"
(These children were not accustomed to say papa and mamma; their mother
would allow no such "namby-pamby.")

"Ay, my little lassie, he promised; I'll bear witness. But make him say
it over again now, Jessy. Such as he are only false loons."

"He is not false. He is too bonny to be false," said Jessy, looking up
to her tall sweetheart with the fullest confidence in his faith.

"Bonny!" cried Mr. Yorke. "That's the reason that he should be, and
proof that he is, a scoundrel."

"But he looks too sorrowful to be false," here interposed a quiet voice
from behind the father's chair. "If he was always laughing, I should
think he forgot promises soon, but Mr. Moore never laughs."

"Your sentimental buck is the greatest cheat of all, Rose," remarked Mr.
Yorke.

"He's not sentimental,"