“Give me your arm when we go out, and I will bring myself to your recollection. But no: I must not hurry you away now. I will call again in half an hour. Mrs. Somers, meanwhile put up the things I have selected. I will take them away with me when I come back from the vicarage, where I have left the pony-carriage.” So, with a parting nod and smile to Kenelm, she turned away, and left him bewildered. “But who is that lady, Will?” “A Mrs. Braefield. She is a new comer.” “She may well be that, Will,” said Jessie, smiling, “for she has only been married six months.” “And what was her name before she married?” “I am sure I don’t know, sir. It is only three months since we came here, and she has been very kind to us and an excellent customer. Everybody likes her. Mr. Braefield is a city gentleman and very rich; and they live in the finest house in the place, and see a great deal of company.” “Well, I am no wiser than I was before,” said Kenelm. “People who ask questions very seldom are.” “And how did you find us out, sir?” said Jessie. “Oh! I guess,” she added, with an arch glance and smile. “Of course, you have seen Miss Travers, and she told you.” “You are right. I first learned your change of residence from her, and thought I would come and see you, and be introduced to the baby,--a boy, I understand? Like you, Will?” “No, sir, the picture of Jessie.” “Nonsense, Will; it is you all over, even to its little hands.” “And your good mother, Will, how did you leave her?” “Oh, sir!” cried Jessie, reproachfully; “do you think we could have the heart to leave Mother,--so lone and rheumatic too? She is tending baby now,--always does while I am in the shop.” Here Kenelm followed the young couple into the parlour, where, seated by the window, they found old Mrs. Somers reading the Bible and rocking the baby, who slept peacefully in its cradle. “Will,” said Kenelm, bending his dark face over the infant, “I will tell you a pretty thought of a foreign poet’s, which has been thus badly translated: “‘Blest babe, a boundless world this bed so narrow seems to thee; Grow man, and narrower than this bed the boundless world shall be.’”[1] [1] Schiller. “I don’t think that is true, sir,” said Will, simply; “for a happy home is a world wide enough for any man.” Tears started into Jessie’s eyes; she bent down and kissed--not the baby, but the cradle. “Will made it.” She added blushing, “I mean the cradle, sir.” Time flew past while Kenelm talked with Will and the old mother, for Jessie was soon summoned back to the shop; and Kenelm was startled when he found the half-hour’s grace allowed to him was over, and Jessie put her head in at the door and said, “Mrs. Braefield is waiting for you.” “Good-by, Will; I shall come to see you again soon; and my mother gives me a commission to buy I don’t know how many specimens of your craft.” CHAPTER III. A SMART pony-phaeton, with a box for a driver in livery equally smart, stood at the shop-door.