"Love was once a little boy, Heigh ho! heigh ho! Then with him 'twas sweet to toy Heigh ho! heigh ho! He was then so innocent, Not as now on mischief bent; Free he came; and harmless went, Heigh ho! heigh ho! Love is now a little man, Heigh ho! heigh ho! And a very saucy one, Heigh ho! heigh ho! He walks so gay and looks so smart, As if he owned each maiden's heart I wish he felt his own keen dart, Heigh ho! heigh ho'! Love, they say, is growing old, Heigh ho! heigh ho! Half his life's already told, Heigh ho! heigh ho! When, he's dead and buried too. What shall we poor maidens do? I'm sure I cannot tell--can you? Heigh ho! heigh ho!" Whereat my father and Soldier Jack shouted lustily "Heigh ho'! heigh ho!" and my mother shook her head but with a smile, and Mr. Webster must confess it was a pretty air and taking one, and trusted the singing thereof was not a holding of the candle to the Evil One. But Mary made a mouth at him and said, 'twould be time enough to be sad when she was too old to be merry. Now after the singing of this catch it so befell that my mother had some occasion to desire from the village some small matter for the supper table, and Martha being intent upon getting ready the supper she bid Mary privily slip away and fetch the things she needed. This did Ben Walker overhear, though it was no business of his, and when Mary, watching her chance, had gone softly out of the one door, Ben, making some excuse, did steal away by the other, a thing we thought nothing of, deeming it but natural that a young man should seek to company a maid, and I not uneasy on Mary's account, the night being fine and clear, and decent women being not molested in our parts, where strangers came little, and all were as friends and neighbours. Now she had been gone some three parts of an hour, when I heard the front door open hurriedly and then slam to. My mother rose quickly and went into the parlour. It was in darkness, for we seldom used it save for company, and for our company of this night it was not large enough. But despite the gloom I knew it was Mary. My mother drew her into the house and placed her in her own rocking-chair. All had risen to their feet. Mary's hat was hanging by its strings down her back. Her decent neckerchief that covered her neck and bosom had been torn aside, and some of the fastenings of her dress undone. She was panting hard for breath, and for a time could form no word. "Where's Ben Walker?" I said, and then Mary found her voice. "Aye," she cried, "where is he? Oh! the coward, the coward!" and then she sobbed and cried again "Oh! the coward, the coward." And just then the sneck was lifted and Ben Walker walked in. He stood in the door way; but I banged the door behind him; and Soldier Jack took him by the arm and drew him into the room, whilst Faith soothed Mary and straightened her dress.