Kate hesitated. “I don’t quite understand. I can feed pigs, bake, and milk. Is it anything to do with that?” “No; as far as I can make out, it has to do with electioneering.” “Then I’ll have nothing to say to it. Go on to the next.” “‘Bake,’ you said. Then here goes. ‘Wanted at once, a man well up in smalls. State salary.’” “But I’m not a man. Is there nothing that will suit me?” “Here is something new,” said Jack, and he began to laugh. “‘Matrimony.—Bachelor, tall, handsome, healthy, good social position, possessing gold mines, and £2000 per annum, wishes to meet with a lady with view to marriage. Send full particulars. State age. Send photo. Thoroughly genuine.’” “That’s the situation for me, to a hair! Do answer, Jack. I’m twenty-one.” “But the photo?” “I have none.” “Then what is the good of answering? There will be such a run on this gentleman.” “You think so, Jack?” “Sure of it.” “But not such desirable females as me.” “There’s no photo,” said the young man sternly. “But I can get myself photygraphed.” “And by that time he will be caught up.” “You think so?” “Sure of it.” “It is very hard to find a place.” “I don’t quite know what you want. Here are a pair of roller-skates advertised, and here is a light phaeton.” “No,” said Kate decidedly. “That’s not matrimonial, and it’s matrimonial I like: read another.” “There is no other.” “Then read over the first again.” Jack did so. Kate mused. “Look here, Jack,” said she. “Write for me and give a good description; and say I’ll be photygraphed the first opportunity.” “That’s no good—he’ll think you colour yourself too high.” “But if _you_ describe me, Jack.” “Well—here goes. Bright eyes, rosy cheeks, with a little dimple just at the corner of the mouth, and dark hair that shines, and lips—” Jack threw down the paper on the floor, put his foot on it, and burst forth with, “Drat it! If it’s matrimonial you want, come along with me back to Sugden to the parson, and we’ll ask him to read the banns next Sunday. But perhaps you’re too tired?” “I—I tired? Bless you, I could run all the way.” * * * * * After a few weeks Thomas Leveridge was able to get about; and though he could not go at once to a distance for work, he was able to do small jobs near home. The squire came to Woodman’s Well. Complaints had been made by the sanitary officer that the cottages were ruinous and unhealthy. “I’ll tell you what,” said he to Leveridge, “I will have them put into thorough repair and send the bill to old Rumage, who’s got the life-rights. If he won’t pay, then the cottages are mine.” “And may I do them up?” “Most assuredly.” “That is famous,” said the mason; “then I shall have time to whitewash and make sweet before the wedding.” “Wedding? What wedding? I thought there had been a burial—that the place was insanitary, and that——” “Well, sir, out of Death cometh Life. A funeral sometimes leads to a marriage.”