to treat him with familiarity as an old friend, he would certainly ask why she had never married. And then he recollected that if Esther had not been an old maid, she would not, in all probability, have been able to do all that she had done for his poor afflicted relatives; so he did not so much regret that she was not a wife and a mother.

Nat soon came home, and the Bateses and the Greenburys came to tea and supper, and they had a regular good snapdragon, and everybody's fingers got burnt, and Bob's more than the rest. And the little ones, with Bob at the head of them, made a tremendous noise, and kept it up till nearly twelve o'clock, which was very late indeed for those parts. One thing made Bob laugh a good deal. Just before the company went away, he was called on for two toasts; so he became gallant, and gave, "The prettiest little girl in Littlethorpe," meaning of course grown-up little girl; but they took it in another sense, and said, "That is little Jenny." And the next toast he proposed was, "The best fellow in Littlethorpe-the longest head, and the warmest heart;" and they cried out at once, "Why, that's Esther Greenbury." So it was no wonder that Bob dreamt that night of Esther and the little girl.

The next day being Christmas-day, all the Gibbses went to church, leaving Mother Bennett at home to boil the pudding. At church Bob saw all the villagers, and some of the Merivales in their grand family pew with the red curtains, which had been an object of his childish veneration, and which he now detested for the sake of his poor niece. As he turned away from the sight, he met a pair of clear, kind, dark eyes, which he was certain he had seen before. Bob was so short, that he was obliged to rise from his seat to see more than the heads of the persons in the next pew. When he stood up, he saw a rather stout, cheerful-looking, middle-aged dame, and the loveliest little fair-haired girl he had ever seen. They must be Esther and his little grand-niece. Yes, those eyes were Esther's-there was no mistake about that-but the rest was certainly changed, very much changed. Yes; there was not much of the bright-faced, strapping girl in the matronly-looking form before him.. Bob stumbled forward over a hassock, and stretched out his hand over the top of the pew. Esther, who had of course heard over and over again of the unexpected return of Bob Parsons, was quite prepared to see him, and shook hands, and smiled very cordially, though it was in a church; and then Bob saw at once that it was indeed the same Esther. Bob's eyes filled with tears of mingled emotion as he looked at the lovely little girl; and Esther lifted her up on the seat for him to kiss. While he was kissing her, and stroking her hair, he muttered "God bless you!" It was meant for Esther, though she thought it was for the child.

Bob had never been more impressed by the church service than on this particular occasion-on Christmas-day, in his native

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village church, after so long an absence, and so many changes. As he walked out afterwards, leading little Bobby Gibbs by the hand, he was lost in thought, out of which he was roused in the churchyard by the sound of a kind voice beside him. "Well, my old friend, I am indeed glad to see you here again." He looked up and saw Esther Greenbury. They shook hands once more, and she said "how long it was since she last heard of him!" Then both were silent, for they began to think of all those whom they had lost since they were boy and girl in that place together. At last Esther said, "You will like to see where they are all laid -will you not?" and Parsons made a sign in the affirmative. Esther spoke to the children. "Here, Bobby, dear, take care of little Jenny for a few minutes. Don't go out of the churchyard." Bobby was only too proud to lead the little beauty along. Parsons followed his old friend across several graves to a distant corner of the churchyard, where lay the bodies of Richard Parsons, his wife, and all their children, save the one who now looked on them. Many of their grandchildren were there too, and among these the newest stone bore the name of "Jane Greenbury," without date or further inscription. On this Esther seated herself, and turned aside, that her friend might give free vent to his emotion. The church became empty, the various groups in the churchyard slowly dispersed, and half an hour passed before Bob touched Esther's shoulder and said, "Now I think we had better go." When they reached the gate of the churchyard, they found little Miss Jenny riding on the same, under the careful guidance of Master Bobby Gibbs.

grave

Bob Parsons went home with Esther, and asked himself to her children's party in the evening, and promised to make himself both useful and agreeable to the company. And he kept his promise well, I assure you, for he was a famous fellow to amuse children; and all the little Greenburys, Bateses, and Gibbses, and the rest of the young fry, were beyond measure charmed with "the funny gentleman from London." As to little Jenny, she never left him for a moment, except to run and tell Mammy Esther how happy she was, and how she did like Mr Parsons so much. Mammy Esther herself seemed very happy too, and looked very well indeed in her new silk gown, and her lace-cap with the pale-pink ribbons. And she went about among her guests, handing cake and currant wine of her own making, and oranges, and apples, and figs, and making everybody comfortable; and having a bit of chat with all the women, and more chat with some of the men; for it was always observed that, somehow, the men liked to get a word or two from Esther Greenbury about different things; and some of the wives said "it couldn't be denied that Esther seemed to like to talk to men more than to women, and always had all her life, which was perhaps one reason she had never been married; for men, in general, don't like such women for their wives, whatever they may do for an even

ing's chat." And one of the best things I know of Esther is, that she never put herself out of temper when such things were repeated to her, but said “it was all true she had no doubt, but she was too old to mend now." On this particular evening she danced with old Mr Bates, for the express amusement of the children. And then Bob Parsons set the children to play "hunt the slipper," and the laughing and screaming might be heard at the Lion. And they all finished the evening with a general game of "blind man's buff," in which Bob Parsons distinguished himself beyond all the others in guessing wrong when he caught anybody—which was scarcely to be wondered at, considering that he could not tell the names of the children when his eyes were unbandaged.

As Bob was going away with the Gibbses, Esther called him aside, and asked him to come and take a quiet cup of tea alone with her to-morrow, as he had said he wanted to talk over several things with her. Of course Bob did not say no.

That quiet cup of tea the next day turned out a very pleasant little affair. Miss Jenny went out to spend the evening with the little Bateses, who had a party of their own that evening; so there was no one to interrupt the conversation. By the time Bob was in the middle of his fourth cup of tea, he had asked all' he had to ask about his relations, especially poor Jenny; and he had become quite familiar with Esther. On easy and intimate terms as of old, except, indeed, that they were now on an equality, whereas formerly Esther was the superior. When they had discussed all Littlethorpe, Esther asked him to tell her all that had happened to him since he left them thirty years ago, which he did in as few words as possible. At length Esther asked how it was that he had never married. Bob said he "didn't know; he had never felt the want of a wife, or had never met with a woman who had made him feel the want of one, and so he had gone on a bachelor till now, when he supposed it was too late in the day to think of marrying."

66 Certainly," ," Esther said, "if he had never felt the want of a wife, he did well to remain single; but I always thought you of such an affectionate nature, that you could not be happy without a wife and little ones to love and to be loved by. But if he had lived all these years without caring for anybody but himself," she continued laughingly, "he might go on very well till the end."

Bob endeavoured to defend himself by saying that he had known no woman whom he wished to marry. Esther thought that was a pity, as he would have made a good husband. He said the London women he had known "were not to his taste, and now he supposed it was too late. But, Esther," he went on to say, "why is it-if I may take the liberty of an old friend to ask why is it that you never married? You did not want suitors when you were young."

Esther was the least affected person in the world, but she stirred her tea unnecessarily, coughed without the slightest cause, and then said, "Why, I think I may tell you how it was.

When

I was a very young girl, I read more than was good for one in my position; and instead of being at all pleased with the rough attentions I received from the young men of my own station, I disliked them, and secretly wished for a lover of some more cultivated class. As I grew older, I thought myself above the nonsensical love notions of other girls: the fact being, that I was not a person at all likely to be in love, as it is called, with any one. But I have often thought, that if any person more clever, more of a scholar than the folks here, would come and make love to me, I should certainly like him. It was perhaps a good thing for me that, with these ideas in my silly head, I was not a beauty, like our poor darling Jenny; for I might have had her fate, and then who could have seen to the dear child? As it was, I felt a dislike to the very thought of marrying any one who would have me. How could I marry Gibbs or Bates, when my poor father was a much better scholar, and more of a gentleman, than either of them? No, no; I was meant for an old maid. I always said it, and now I've proved it."

Bob looked at her with a queer expression of countenance. He knew what he meant to say very well, but he didn't say it, and said something else instead. "Why, Esther, I never thought you were so proud. I do not think any one here guesses that you think yourself so much better than other folks, or you would not be such a favourite." Now, Bob said this to vex her, for he was not a dull man at all, and he understood that Esther was not the sort of person to think herself better than others.

And Esther was vexed, and showed that she was; for she coloured, and said, "Well, I'm sorry you misunderstand me. I thought I fancied that you who have seen the world, and had some experience, would understand me better; but never mind." "Yes, but I do mind," said Bob. I do think that a woman must have a very strange sort of heart if it is not moved when she sees that a man thoroughly loves her."

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"So do I," said Esther emphatically. "She must be either very silly or very unfeeling."

"Then why did you refuse Gibbs, and others?”

"Why?" echoed Esther, surprised at the animation of Bob's manner; "because they never did love me thoroughly. Gibbs, for instance, loves his beer quite as well as his wife.”

"But," said Bob, "suppose some one should come now-some one who really loved you very much-who respected you besides; honoured you from his heart for your goodness through your whole life; who promised to love and care for you all the rest of his days, and to make you as happy as he possibly could; and to love you not only in this world, Esther, mind, but in all worlds to come; what would you say then?"

"Oh, that's supposing an impossibility," said Esther gravely. "Indeed it is no such thing, Esther; for I am that man myself. What do you say, Esther-dear Esther?"

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She stared at him in unfeigned astonishment. He repeated his question. Why, that you are mad, Bob. That you do not know what you are about." But she certainly was a little confused, and her colour was a little higher as she repeated-"Indeed you do not know what you are about."

"Begging pardon for contradicting a lady," said Bob quite cheerfully (for he began to fancy he should succeed); "I never was more in my senses. I know very well what I am about. I am trying to get a good, amiable, sensible, sweet-tempered wife the only woman I ever took a fancy to when young, and whom I find I have been loving all my life without knowing it. Listen to me, Esther: I will do all that you wish, if you will only have me. Little Jenny shall be our child-I will be more than a father to her. Oh, Esther! if you could only tell all the—”

She

Esther was quite disturbed by Bob's vehement manner. could scarcely tell what was passing within her mind. She certainly had liked Bob very much as a little boy-more than any other boy then or since; she liked him now for the sake of old times, and more for what she had seen of him yesterday. She could not like him the less, certainly, for this startling evidence of the interest he took in her. All this she thought, and then she ended by saying-"But only think, Bob; at my age-nearly eight-and-forty-would it not be ridiculous? Besides, I am full three years older than you. You are quite young yet for a man; you might get a pretty young wife any day, Bob."

"I don't want a pretty young wife," said Bob, getting up and standing with his back to the fire in an obstinate attitude. "I want something better than that, Esther," he continued, as a smile crept over his face: "you are not going to put me off this time."

Esther did not know what he meant.

"Esther," said Bob, "do you remember that day when Nat Gibbs abused you for interfering between him and me?"

"Oh yes," said Esther, bursting into a laugh; "how you and I scrambled away! I was afraid he would half kill you afterwards; and if it hadn't been for me, I'm sure he would. I afterwards begged he would take no more notice of you. And you were a little ungrateful thing, for you behaved very ill-naturedly to me ever after that day. I never could tell how I offended you."

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"Why, I thought you behaved shabbily in neglecting my attentions."

"Pooh! if you were really in love with me, why did you make yourself so disagreeable? I was beginning to dislike you thoroughly when you went away. Perhaps that is the way you