She was buying up enough of my beauty furniture to fill the
little cottage. I did be finding it out 'esterday, and seure it was
their wedding present to a poor, childless widow, as 'ould be in the
Eunion, and I with hundreds and thousands!'
'Hold your tongue, name o' goodness, 'Lizbeth Jenkins!' growls Mr
Prothero.
'Hush, Davy, bach! we have all our troubles,' says Mrs Prothero,
brushing a tear from her eye.
'Grandfather, I liked Harold so much!' says Minette, to the great relief
of the rest of the party.
'Call him Master Gwynne, you forward little minx,' says Mr Prothero,
patting the child's back gently.
'Oh! but he told me he should marry me, and that Colonel Vaughan said he
was my uncle.'
'Children and 'oomen all alike,' says the farmer; 'thinking of marriage
as soon as they can speak. Gladys, why don't you teach the child
better?'
'It was the champagne, father,' says Owen. 'My full impression is, that
a few glasses more and you would have kissed Lady Mary. I wish we had
brought a glass for you to drink the bride and bridegroom's health, Aunt
'Lizbeth.'
'Oh, I have been drinking that pain!'
A sudden little cry in the corner prevents any allusion to the occasion
on which Mrs Jenkins drank champagne.
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