“Oh, I’s warrant he has a house full o’ young uns for her to be stepmother to! And that will be a heap worse than if the wench had a score of her own! It is as bad as if I had found her dead! Yes, that is so,” sighed Dandy. “No, it isn’t so. You are all out again. John Legg has no children at home. He has a son and daughter, and gave them both a grand education above his means, and to repay him they did all they could to break his heart. They had worldly ambitions above their state, and despised the calling of their father. The son took ‘holy orders,’ not for the love of the Lord or the neighbor, but for love of self and the world. He became a professional preacher only, not a minister of religion. Mr. Hay,” said the speaker, suddenly turning toward Ran, “I shall presently have something to say to you in reference to this man, in which you have an especial interest.” “Thank you, Longman. I will remember to remind you of it,” replied Ran. “Now will you please go on telling me about the family my niece married into?” said Dandy impatiently. “Certainly!” smiled Longman, good-humoredly. “The son utterly ignores his father and hangs on the skirts of influential people; but as yet has had but little success. The daughter went out as a governess, less it seems to be of service to children than to seek her own fortune, through her beauty, among the rich and noble. She also ignores her father. Both these hopefuls are ‘married and settled,’ to use the common phrase. And the newly-wedded, middle-aged couple are alone.” “And what could have tempted my gal to agone and married of a old widdyman, whose son and darter had showed sich bad blood?” “Well, to get out of service, perhaps; to have a house and home and a good husband, whom she could love, in this John Legg.” “I don’t memorize the name of no John Legg at Medge, though, to be sure, I have been away from them parts for twenty years—yes, that is so!” “No, you can’t remember him. He was not a Medge man. He came from the borough in London about two years ago. After his wife died, broken-hearted, it is said, by the conduct of his children, he sold out his business in London and came down to Medge, where he had a married sister and many nieces and nephews, his only relatives, except his undutiful son and daughter. He had enough to live on in retirement, but could not enjoy himself in idleness. So he took the first chance to go into business again. It happened that the only greengrocer in the place, an aged man, wanted to sell out and go to live with his married daughter, who was the wife of a farmer in the neighborhood.” “More fool he!” exclaimed Dandy. “I saw the play of ‘Lear’ once.” “But there was a _Cordelia_ in it, you know, Dandy!” “Yes; go on.”