My mother looked out of the window and saw three little girls still making mud-pies. “Why should not they be knitting at this moment,” said she, “instead of soiling their clothes and their faces, and learning habits of idleness?” “Well, to be sure, ma’am, if you think they can learn——” “Let them try. In another twelvemonth, those three girls will be able to knit stockings for the whole family, and the elder boys might earn their own shoe-leather presently.” George Gray was now seen approaching, talking earnestly with a well-dressed young man. They entered the cottage together. “Your servant, ma’am,” said George. “This is Tom Webster,” he added, seeing that Tom looked awkward. “What is the matter, George?” said his wife, who saw by his face that something disagreeable had happened. “What is the matter!” cried he, flinging his hat into a corner in a passion. “We are going to be ruined; that is what’s the matter. Here have I been working as hard as a horse for years, and we have both been pinching ourselves just to be able to feed the children, and now after all we must go to ruin. We must give up our cow; we must give up our firing: the common is going to be inclosed!” “Perhaps not, if we hold a meeting,” said Tom. “Nonsense, Tom!” cried George. “You talk of your meeting; but what will be the use of all we can say, if the rich men and the parliament have settled the matter between them? No, no; the thing is done, and my landlord has got the last rent I shall ever pay.” Hannah sank down in a chair as she heard these words. “I hope you will find yourself mistaken there,” observed my mother. “Have you heard that, in case of the common being inclosed, a piece of ground will be given to every housekeeper in return for his right of common?” “Surely, George,” said his wife, “that makes a difference?” “A very great difference,” he replied, “if the lady be sure of it. I make bold, ma’am, to ask?” On being assured of the fact, George turned round upon Tom to ask why he had not mentioned it. “Such a promise as that is always made,” said Tom, “but it is never kept. Besides, if it was, what would you do with a piece of ground? You could not afford to till it.” “Leave that to me,” said George, brightening up. “I may find my own ways and means to keep my cow after all: so remember I make no promises about the meeting till I am sure I have heard the whole truth about the common.” Tom Webster went away, looking a little mortified; and, as it was dinner-time, and the potatoes were ready, my mother also took her leave, advising George not to be hasty in blaming public measures before he knew the reasons of them. George promised this all the more readily for hearing what favours were designed for his boy. Billy was called in to receive his first lesson in good manners, and to hear what brilliant fortune was in store for him. He was to get himself measured by the tailor and shoe-maker, and to make his appearance the next Monday morning.