I did not wonder at Hannah’s love for her home when I looked round the old kitchen. It was low, and the rafters were smoke-dried and discoloured, but it looked so bright and cheery this hot July afternoon, with its red tiles and well-scrubbed tables, and rocking chairs black with age and polish. The sunshine stole in at the open door, and the fire threw ruddy reflections on the brass utensils and bright-coloured china. A sick chicken in a straw basket occupied the hearth with the tabby cat; a large shaggy dog stretched himself across the doorway, and regarded us from between his paws. “It is Luke’s dog, Rover; he is as sensible as a human being,” observed Molly, and before we commenced tea she fetched him a plate of broken meat from the larder, her hospitality extending even to the dumb creatures. A wooden screen shut us off from the fire. From my place at the table I had a good view of the inner kitchen and a smaller courtyard with a well in it; a pleasant breeze came through the open door. As soon as the children were helped, Hannah came back looking rather shamefaced but extremely happy, and followed by Luke Armstrong. He greeted us rather shyly, but seated himself at Molly’s bidding. He was a short, sturdy-looking young fellow, with crisp, curling hair and an honest, good-tempered face. He seemed intelligent and well-mannered, and I was disposed to be pleased with Hannah’s sweetheart. I found afterwards from Molly when she took me into the dairy that Michael Sowerby had consented to recognise the engagement, and that it was looked upon as a settled thing in the household. “Hannah is the youngest of us girls, and a bit spoiled,” observed Molly, apologetically. “I told father it was all nonsense, and Hannah was only a chit, but it seemed he had no mind to cross her. The folks at Scroggin’s Mill is not much to our taste, but Luke is the best of the bunch, and a good, steady lad with a head on his shoulders. He was for going to London to seek his fortune,” continued Molly, “for Miller Armstrong is a poor sort of father to him, and Martin elbows him out of all chances of getting any of the money; but Squire Hawtry, of the Red Farm, where Lydia lives as dairymaid, has just lost his head man, and he offered Luke the place. That is what he has been telling Hannah this afternoon in the farmyard; so if Hannah is a good girl, as I tell her, and saves her bit of money, and Luke works his best, Squire Hawtry will be letting them have one of the new cottages he has built for the farm servants, and a year or two may see them settled in it to begin life together.” And here Molly drew a hard work-roughened hand across her eyes as though her own words touched her. “I am very glad for Hannah’s sake,” I returned. “She is a good girl, and deserves to be happy.”