"Young!" wrathfully repeated Mrs. Cross. "I should think she is young! Girls are as soft as apes. The minute a chap says a word to 'em about marrying, they're all agog to do it, whether it's fit, or whether it's unfit. Our Mary Ann might look inches over Ben Tyrrett's head, if she had any sense in her. Hark ye, Charlotte! When you see her, just put in a word against it; maybe it'll turn her. Tell her you'd not have Tyrrett at a gift." "And that's true," replied Charlotte, with a laugh, as her guest departed. A few minutes, and Charlotte received another visitor. This was the wife of Mark Mason--a tall, bony woman, with rough black hair and a loud voice. That voice and Mark did not get on very well together. She put her hands back upon her hips, and used it now, standing before Charlotte in a threatening attitude. "What do you do, keeping our Carry out at night?" Charlotte looked up in surprise. She was thinking of something else, or her answer might have been more cautious, for she was one of those who never willingly make mischief. "I do not keep Caroline out. She is here of an evening now and then--not often." Mrs. Mason laughed--a low derisive laugh of mockery. "I knew it was a falsehood when she told it me! There she goes out, night after night, night after night; so I set Mark on to her, for I couldn't keep her in, neither find out where she went to. Mark was in a passion--something had put him out, and Carry was frightened, for he had hold of her arm savage-like. 'I am at Charlotte East's of a night, Mark,' she said. 'I shall take no harm there.'" Charlotte did not lift her eyes from her work. Mrs. Mason stood defiantly. "Now, then! Where is it she gets to?" "Why do you apply to me?" returned Charlotte. "I am not Caroline Mason's keeper." "If you bain't her keeper, you be her adviser," retorted Mrs. Mason. "And that's worse." "When I advise Caroline at all, I advise her for her good."