"You, and half a dozen more that I happen to know. May I make so bold as to ask you, marm, how long you may have been a widow?" continued my father. "Bless me! so long that I quite forget all about it," replied Mrs St. Felix, turning away from the counter to the jars behind. I gave my father a wink to let him know that it was his turn now: he understood me, hitched up his waistband, and nodded. "How did you lose your first husband, marm? What did he die of?" The widow coloured, and my father perceiving it, followed up his question. "Did he die of a fever, marm?" "I'm not exactly sure," replied she, hurriedly. "May I ask how long it is since he died?" continued my father. "Oh! Mr Saunders," replied the widow, confusedly, "I really don't recollect just now. It's very painful to answer such questions." "Not if you've been a widow so long that you forget all about it; that's all sham and nonsense. So you ain't sure _what_ he died of, nor _when_ it was that he died? Are you quite sure, marm, that your husband is dead?" Mrs St. Felix started, turned very red, and then very pale. "My sarvice to you for the present, marm," said my father, after a pause, taking off his hat. "I suspect that I've found a way to stop your tongue as well as my wife's. Broadside for broadside, that's fair play." So saying, my father stumped away out of the shop door. Mrs St. Felix put her apron up to her eyes, with her elbows resting on the counter. I waited a little, and then I said, "What is the matter, Mrs St. Felix?" She started at my voice. "You here, Jack? I thought you had gone out with your father. Well," continued she, wiping her eyes, "it serves me right. I forgot that in amusing myself I annoyed him. Jack, don't you mention anything about this. Do you think your father will?" "I don't think he will, for he cannot do so without talking about having his pigtail cut off, and I know he cannot bear to think of it." "Well, then, pray don't you, that's a good boy." "I never will, I promise you." "Then, good night, Jack; you must leave me now, I don't feel quite well." I wished the widow good night, and went back to my mother's house. My father was there, but he never hinted at the conversation which had taken place, neither at that time nor afterwards. CHAPTER SIXTEEN. SHOWING HOW OLD NANNY FELL SICK AND GOT WELL AGAIN. Before I fell asleep that night I thought a great deal of what had passed between the widow St. Felix and my father. Why should she have shown such emotion, and why should she request of me not to mention what had passed? I had heard reports about her, as I have before mentioned; I had heard them from old Nanny, but I did not put any confidence in what she said. Thinking of old Nanny reminded me that I had not called upon her for some time, and I resolved that I would visit her the next day.