“Cuckoo!” cried little Abel as the twigs were once more released; but Granfer did not respond. After an admonitory shout to one of the carters who had spent what he considered an undue time in consideration of the horizon, he resumed his labours with the bill-hook. Mrs Blanchard trundled her perambulator onwards with a sore heart and an anxious face. Her transient anger had left her, and she reproached herself for having lost her temper. “’Twas a bad start,” she thought, ruefully, “a very bad start. I d’ ’low I’ve spoilt my chance.” Mrs Bolt was peeling potatoes when her daughter came to the door, but she laid down her knife with an exclamation of delight when she caught sight of her. “’Tis never you, my dear, so early an’ all, an’ sich a long ways to come! To think o’ your travellin’ seven mile at this time o’ marnin’! Dear, to be sure, how Abel have come on! There, I never see’d a child shoot up like that. Bless his little heart, he be a fine child. An’ Baby too, she be a-comin’ on jist about.” “Feel the weight of her,” said Alice, taking the child out of the perambulator and laying her in her mother’s arms; there was a pretty flush in her face and a light in her eyes. Mrs Bolt weighed her small namesake, and uttered various disjointed exclamations of rapture. “She be gettin’ sich a lot o’ hair, look-see,” continued the proud mother, jerking off the child’s hood. “An’ she’s got two teeth very near through. She be cuttin’ them early, bain’t she? An’ sich a good baby. There, she do sleep right through the night, an’ by day when I’m busy at my work, ye know, she’ll sit an’ suck at her titty wi’out a murmur.” “She be a-lookin’ for it now,” remarked grandma. The much chewed indiarubber ring was unearthed from beneath the baby’s cape, and the flat lozenge-shaped adjunct thereto thrust into her mouth, both women laughing delightedly on noting its possessor’s satisfaction. “Come in, my dear, an’ sit down, do,” said Mrs Bolt. “I’m sure ye must be jist about tired. Come, Abel love, an’ see what grandma’s got for ’ee. A ripe apple won’t do en no harm,” she added, turning to Alice. “They golden pippins be beautiful to-year—jist so sweet as honey. I do r’ally think that dear child favours his granfer,” she exclaimed, as having reached the living-room, she divested Abel of his hat. “I do wish father ’ud take to en!” ejaculated Alice, dropping into the elbow-chair. “We met en jist now hedgin’ in the Drove. He did seem to notice him a bit at first, but then he turned nasty about Ned as he do always do, an’ began glenin’ an’ carryin’ on about the Union.” “There, love, don’t ye mind en; ye do want a lot o’ patience wi’ father. ’Tis what I do always say. Who’s to know it if not me? But he’ll come round in time—he’ll come round.”