_Mother_ hath returned! The Moment I hearde her Voice I fell to trembling. At the same Moment I hearde _Robin_ cry, "Oh, _Mother_, I have broken the greene Beaker!" which betraied Apprehension in another Quarter. However, she quite mildlie replied, "Ah, I knew the Handle was loose," and then kist me with soe great Affection that I felt quite easie. She had beene withhelde by a troublesome Colde from returning at the appointed Time, and cared not to write. 'Twas just Supper-time, and there were the Children to kiss and to give theire Bread and Milk, and _Bill's_ Letter to reade; soe that nothing particular was sayd till the younger Ones were gone to Bed, and _Father_ and _Mother_ were taking some Wine and Toast. Then says _Father_, "Well, Wife, have you got the five hundred Pounds?" "No," she answers, rather carelesslie. "I tolde you how 'twoulde be," says _Father_; "you mighte as well have stayed at Home." "Really, Mr. _Powell,"_ says _Mother_, "soe seldom as I stir from my owne Chimney-corner, you neede not to grudge me, I think, a few Dayes among our mutuall Relatives." "I shall goe to Gaol," says _Father_. "Nonsense," says _Mother_; "to Gaol indeed!" "Well, then, who is to keepe me from it?" says _Father_, laughing. "I will answer for it, Mr. _Milton_ will wait a little longer for his Money," says _Mother_, "he is an honourable Man, I suppose." "I wish he may thinke me one," says _Father_; "and as to a little longer, what is the goode of waiting for what is as unlikelie to come eventuallie as now?" "You must answer that for yourselfe," says _Mother_, looking wearie: "I have done what I can, and can doe no more." "Well, then, 'tis lucky Matters stand as they do," says _Father_. "Mr. _Milton_ has been much here in your Absence, my Dear, and has taken a Liking to our _Moll_; soe, believing him, as you say, to be an honourable Man, I have promised he shall have her." "Nonsense," cries _Mother_, turning red and then pale. "Never farther from Nonsense," says _Father_, "for 'tis to be, and by the Ende of the Month too." "You are bantering me, Mr. _Powell_," says _Mother_. "How can you suppose soe, my Deare?" says _Father_, "you doe me Injustice." "Why, _Moll_!" cries _Mother_, turning sharplie towards me, as I sate mute and fearfulle, "what is alle this, Child? You cannot, you dare not think of wedding this round-headed Puritan." "Not round-headed," sayd I, trembling; "his Haire is as long and curled as mine." "Don't bandy Words with me, Girl," says _Mother_ passionatelie, "see how unfit you are to have a House of your owne, who cannot be left in Charge of your _Father's_ for a Fortnighte, without falling into Mischiefe!" "I won't have _Moll_ chidden in that Way," says _Father_, "she has fallen into noe Mischiefe, and has beene a discreete and dutifull Child." "Then it has beene alle your doing," says _Mother_, "and you have forced the Child into this Match." "Noe Forcing whatever," says _Father_, "they like