CHAPTER XX NOT FOR SALE But when I had fed my good horse that evening, and bedded him comfortably as he deserved, returning with a hock of cold bacon to my den, and a jug of ale which I needed sorely, there I found my white deal table, just where I was going to lay the cloth, covered with a canopy and tissue-fringing of gold too bright for the candle-light. "Who has brought this beehive here and stuck it on my table?" I asked with a tone of wonder and vexation; for I had quite enough to do with my own affairs just now. "Did you ever see a beehive of this colour? Then I should like to know where they got the straw from?" Grace had lifted her head, and was passing both hands through the curls of which she was so proud that she cared not what we called them, and her cheeks had a rich, unusual flush; and there was some new brightness in her eyes as well, bright enough always, now too bright, with unsettled weather in the depth beyond the blue. I saw that there was something up, but left her to begin it. "George, have you taken it into your head, not to care a straw for your sister any more?" This was exactly what I expected; but I looked at her with innocent astonishment. I put down my bacon and my jug of beer, but drew back the cloth, to leave room for her arms, and then gazed at her with some dignity. "Oh, you need not be afraid. I am not going to cry over it," she exclaimed, with the usual ingratitude of girls; "in fact I feel much more inclined to laugh. You have been trying to sell me, to sell your own sister! Can you not imagine, George, that I am not for sale?" "Look here!" I said, for this was coming it too strong; "you have got into some tantrums, some feminine delusions. I have not had a bit to eat, I don't know when; and I must recruit the inner man, while you come to your senses." "Poor thing! It cannot be so very deep in love, or it would be satisfied to live on air. But don't they feed you where you go, dear George? Well, that does seem inhospitable. And they must be rich people, or you would not go so often." This was almost more than I could stand. However, I kept up my dignity, remembering that the more impudent a girl is, the more she "climbs down" afterwards. "Your very good health, my dear child!" I said, and then observed her through the glass which formed the bottom of the tankard. Now I say that she was a very sweet young woman, and a worthy wife for the best man that ever lived, not to lose all self-command at this; for the loveliest creature ever born cannot flatter herself that she looks well thus.