Jem went to a cupboard in the corner and produced a nice-sized one, neither too large nor too small. "Oh!" said Meg, gratified; "what a lot of basins and things, Jem; I shall make you some puddings in those." "I reckon you will," he answered smiling. She bent over her flowers, touching them with soft tender touch, for she loved each one, and he stood looking on. Could this sweet girl really belong to him? Then a thought came over him with a pang, of what the women grew into around them--the toiling, hard-working, ill-fed, sometimes ill-used women. "But Meg will never grow like that," he thought; "not while I love her, and God loves her; and His love is a never-ending love." "Ain't you going in t'other room to take off yer bonnet, my dear?" he asked; "or are the flowers too precious?" "Don't you see," she answered, smiling, "my bonnet won't fade, and these will; so I thought I would do them first." "I told mother to come and take a cup o' tea with us at five o'clock; it must be near that now." He drew out a clumsy, old-fashioned watch from his pocket and glanced at it. "It wants nigh on twenty minutes to, my girl, so if we mean to get out our things we must be quick." "These are done now," she answered, gathering up the bits and putting them into the fire, where they crackled up into a blaze and made the kettle boil up in good earnest. So she took off her bonnet, and when she came back Jem had put a small square hamper on the table ready for her to open. "Do you think mother would like to see what my mistress has given me?" she asked a little timidly; for "mother" was a new word to her lips; hitherto it had always been "your mother." "I dare say she would, Meg; and tea don't matter for a few minutes." So Meg left the hamper untouched and went to the cupboard where she had seen the cups, and began to set three on a small tray she found there. "Here is some milk, Jem!" she exclaimed; "how kind your mother is; and some bread and butter too all ready." "Mother's in general very thoughtful," he answered, going over to her and lifting the tray to the chiffonier. "It will be handy there, against we have cleared the table." At this moment there was a knock at the door, which Jem hastened to answer by opening it wide. "I've brought her," he said, by way of introduction. And then Mrs. Seymour saw her new daughter-in-law for the first time. That slim graceful figure, clothed in a simple, plainly-made dress of some mixture of grey and brown, which Meg had decided on for her wedding dress, because it would wear well in London, and then the blushing gentle face above it. Jem had not said a word too much in her praise, as far as she could judge by the first glance. "Welcome, my dear," she said, advancing and kissing her; "I'm glad as my Jem is made happy at last."