“Now don’t ye fly out like that, don’t ye,” went on the good woman, impressively. “I am but thinkin’ what’s for the best. You’m our own flesh an’ blood, as ye say yourself, an’ so’s the childer; father’d be fond enough o’ the childer if he was to have ’em nigh en. ’Tis but Ned as he’ve a-took again’.” “Well, but I bain’t a-goin’ to desert Ned,” cried Alice, hotly. “My own ’usband what I’ve a-chose and what have a-been sich a good ’usband an’ sich a good father. I’m sure he’d work his fingers to the bwone for me an’ the childern!” “Bide a bit, bide a bit,” returned Mrs Bolt. “I’ve been a-piecin’ of it out in my mind. If you an’ the little ones was once here, ye’d soon get round father—I d’ ’low he’d never want to part from ye again. There, ye be the only child what was spared to us. I can’t but think so soon as there was talk o’ your j’inin’ Ned in Ameriky he’d tell ye to send for him to come back again, sooner nor let ye go.” Alice was silent for a moment, struck in spite of herself, by the idea. “’Tis true,” she said. “There mid be a chance o’ that. Father used to be awful fond o’ me when I was a little maid, an’ I couldn’t but see he noticed the childern to-day. He said Abel was a jolly little chap. Abel was tryin’ to play cuckoo wi’ his granfer. He’s sich a friendly little feller, I can’t but think as father’d soon take to en.” “I d’ ’low he would,” agreed Mrs Bolt, eagerly. “As for poor baby,” went on her daughter, in an aggrieved tone, “I can’t see no sich great likeness to the Blanchards. Father will have it she takes after Ned’s mother—I can’t see that.” “Nor I,” agreed the living grandmother, gravely, considering the sleeping baby. “But still,” went on Alice, suddenly reverting to the main point from which she had been momentarily diverted by the various side issues which seemed to present themselves, “I couldn’t let Ned go travellin’ all by hisself. I couldn’t ever part wi’ en. Summat mid happen as I mid never know. An’ he midn’t get on out there—an’ he midn’t be able to find the money to come home wi’ if father was to let him come—Oh, mother!” This latter exclamation was uttered in a totally different tone. She caught her breath with a gasp, her countenance suddenly illuminated. “What’s to do?” cried Mrs Bolt eagerly. Little Abel, who had finished his apple, came trotting across the room to share in the excitement. But he was not destined to hear what was going on. Mrs Blanchard, leaning forward in her chair, whispered eagerly in her mother’s ear. The latter’s face, at first astonished, grew gradually alarmed, but finally assumed an expression of admiring delight. “Well, I shouldn’t wonder but what it mid answer,” she said slowly. “I know father’d be overj’yed to have you an’ the childern here. But whatever ’ud your husband say?” “Oh, I’ll manage Ned if you’ll manage father. ’Tis worth tryin’. Dear to be sure, how happy we mid be all livin’ together!”