"Suppose we say careless," said Mrs. Goodriche; "but it is no laughing matter, niece. Have you never heard the old saying, 'Wilful waste makes woful want'?" "Well, well," replied the niece, with something like a sigh, "I can't help it--I never could;" but before Mrs. Goodriche could say another word, she cried out, "You have got a magpie--have you not, Henry?" "How could you know that?" asked Henry. "Sukey told me," she answered, "and Mary Lampet told her. Mary was with the person who gave you the magpie, when she sent it to you." "Who is Mary Lampet?" said Henry. "One of Bessy's new friends," said Mrs. Goodriche; "a woman who sometimes comes for a day's work to my house." "And such a curious old body," said Miss Bessy; "she wears a blue striped petticoat, and she generally has a pipe in her mouth." "Never mind her, my dear," said Mrs. Goodriche: "Mr. and Mrs. Fairchild and I have a good deal to say to each other; we do not often meet, and we wish to have our share of talking; it is not for one person, and that one of the youngest, to have all the talk to herself." Instead of noticing this remark, Miss Bessy looked round the table. "One, two, three, four, five, six, seven," she said; "aunt, you are wrong, I am not one of the youngest; there are three older, and three younger than me. I am Jack in the middle; and therefore I have a right to talk to the old people, and to the young ones too; and therefore I may talk most." Henry was being gradually worked up by Miss Bessy to think that he might be as free as she was; and he began with, "Well now, is not that very odd?" "My dear Henry," said Mr. Fairchild, "did not you hear Mrs. Goodriche say she thought that young people should not have all the talk to themselves?" "Don't scold him," said Bessy; "he meant no harm." Mrs. Goodriche looked distressed; her niece saw it, and was quiet for at least a minute or two, and then she began to talk again as if nothing had happened. When tea was over, and everybody risen from the table, before it was settled what was to be done next, Henry walked out through the glass doors into the garden--he was going to feed Mag. Bessy saw him, and called after him; he did not answer her--perhaps he did not hear her. She called again--he was farther off, and did not turn. "You little rogue!" she cried out; "but I will pay you;" and off she ran after him. He heard her step and her voice as she called him; he took to his heels through the shrubbery, and to the gate of the fold-yard--into the yard--round the barn--amongst the hay-ricks--across a new-mown field, and over a five-barred gate, using all his speed, and yet gaining no ground upon her; so back again then he came to where he knew John would be, and making up to him, he got so behind him that he put him between Bessy and himself. There the three were in the fold-yard, Bessy trying to catch Henry, who was dodging about round John, when Mr. Fairchild, who had followed Bessy, came up.