“My name is Wilson, young man,” said she, persuasively, and the Amazon's voice was mellow and womanly, spite of her coal-scuttle full of field poppies. “I am her nurse, and I have not seen her this five years come Martinmas;” and the Amazon gave a gentle sigh of disappointment. “Not at home, ma'am!” rang the inexorable Plush. But David's good heart took the woman's part. “She is at home, now,” said he, coming forward. “I saw her go into the house scarce a minute ago.” “Oh, thank you, sir,” said Mrs. Wilson. But Mr. Plush's face was instantly puckered all over with signals, which David not comprehending, he said, “Can I say a word with you, sir?” and, drawing him on one side, objected, in an injured and piteous tone. “We are not at home to such gallimaufry as that; it is as much as my place is worth to denounce that there bonnet to our ladies.” “Bonnet be d--d,” roared David, aloud. “It is her old nurse. Come, heave ahead;” and he pointed up the stairs. “Anything to oblige you, captain,” said Henry, and sauntered into the drawing-room; “Mrs. Wilson, ma'am, for Miss Fountain.” “Very well; my niece will be here directly.” Lucy had just gone to her own room for some working materials. “You had better come to an anchor on this seat, Mrs. Wilson,” said David. “Thank ye kindly, young gentleman,” said Mrs. Wilson; and she settled her stately figure on the seat. “I have walked a many miles to-day, along of our horse being lame, and I am a little tired. You are one of the family, I do suppose?” “No, I am only a visitor.” “Ain't ye now? Well, thank ye kindly, all the same. I have seen a worse face than yours, I can tell you,” added she; for in the midst of it all she had found time to read countenances _more mulierurn._ “And I have seen a good many hundred worse than yours, Mrs. Wilson.” Mrs. Wilson laughed. “Twenty years ago, if you had said so, I might have believed you, or even ten; but, bless you, I am an old woman now, and can say what I choose to the men. Forty-two next Candlemas.” In the country they call themselves old at forty-two, because they feel young. In town they call themselves young at forty-two, because they feel old. David found that he had fallen in with a gossip; and, being in no humor for vague chat, he left Mrs. Wilson to herself, with an assurance that Miss Fountain would be down to her directly.