“Now Heaven forbid a lad I took out of the streets.” “Well, but your worship is an understanding man. You took him not up without some merit of his?” “Merit? not a jot! I liked the looks of the brat, that was all.” “Was that no merit? He pleased the father's eye. And now who had pleased the daughter's. That has oft been seen since Adam.” “How know ye 'tis he?” “I held her hand, and with my finger did lightly touch her wrist; and when the others came and went, 'twas as if dogs and cats had fared in and out. But at this Ulrich's coming her pulse did leap, and her eye shine; and when he went, she did sink back and sigh; and 'twas to be seen the sun had gone out of the room for her. Nay, burgomaster, look not on me so scared: no witch or magician I, but a poor girl that hath been docile, and so bettered herself by a great neglected leech's art and learning. I tell ye all this hath been done before, thousands of years ere we were born. Now bide thou there till I come to thee, and prithee, prithee, spoil not good work wi' meddling.” She then went back and asked her patient for a lock of her hair. “Take it,” said she, more listlessly than ever. “Why, 'tis a lass of marble. How long do you count to be like that, mistress?” “Till I am in my grave, sweet Peggy.” “Who knows? maybe in ten minutes you will be altogether as hot.” She ran into the shop, but speedily returned to the mayor and said, “Good news! He fancies her and more than a little. Now how is't to be? Will you marry your child, or bury her, for there is no third way, for shame and love they do rend her virgin heart to death.” The dignitary decided for the more cheerful rite, but not without a struggle; and with its marks on his face he accompanied Margaret to his daughter. But as men are seldom in a hurry to drink their wormwood, he stood silent. So Doctor Margaret said cheerfully, “Mistress, your lock is gone; I have sold it.” “And who was so mad as to buy such a thing?” inquired the young lady scornfully. “Oh, a black-haired laddie wi' white teeth. They call him Ulrich.” The pale face reddened directly, brow and all. “Says he, 'Oh, sweet mistress, give it me.' I had told them all whose 'twas. 'Nay,' said I, 'selling is my livelihood, not giving.' So he offered me this, he offered me that, but nought less would I take than his next quarter's wages. “Cruel,” murmured the girl, scarce audibly. “Why, you are in one tale with your father. Says he to me when I told him, 'Oh, an he loves her hair so well, 'tis odd but he loves the rest of her. Well,' quoth he, ''tis an honest lad, and a shall have her, gien she will but leave her sulks and consent.' So, what say ye, mistress, will you be married to Ulrich, or buried i' the kirkyard?” “Father! father!” “'Tis so, girl, speak thy mind.”