"It's a big story, Joe," said Mrs Banks, indignantly. "You wasn't, or I shouldn't ha' had you." Joe winked at the clock again, and laughed a little inside as he unbuttoned another button of his vest--the second beginning at the top-- to keep count how many cups of tea he had had. "It's my opinion," said Mrs Banks, "that--" "Howd thee tongue, wilt ta?" cried Joe. "Here's the lass." Daisy entered as he spoke, looking very pale and anxious-eyed, hastened through the kitchen, and went upstairs to take off her hat and jacket. "Just you make haste down, miss," said Mrs Banks, tartly. "I don't want any supper, mother," said the girl, hurriedly. "Then I want thee to ha'e some!" exclaimed Mrs Banks; "so look sharp." Daisy gave a sigh and hurried upstairs, and, as the door closed, Joe brought his hand down on the table with a thump that made the cups and saucers dance. "Now, look here, old woman--that's my bairn, and I wean't have her wherrited. If she is--" "I'm going to say what's on my mind, Joe, when it's for my child's good," said Mrs Banks, stoutly. "Are you?" said Joe, taking another cup of tea and undoing another button; "then so am I. Lookye here, my lass! I wouldn't ha' took a step to throw Daisy in young Maister's way, but as he's took to her, why, I wean't ha' it interfered wi'--so now, then." "Don't blame me, then, Joe; that's all," said Mrs Banks. "Who's going to?" said Joe. "So now let's have none of your clat." Daisy came in then, and took her place at the table, making a very sorry pretence at eating, and only speaking in monosyllables till her mother pressed her. "Did Mrs Glaire send you home with anybody?" "No, mother." "Did you come home alone?" "No, mother." "Humph: who came with you?" "Tom, mother." Mrs Banks looked mollified, and Joe surprised. "Has Miss Eve been playing to you, to-night?" "No, mother." "What have you been doing then?" "I--I--haven't been at the House," stammered Daisy. Joe turned sharply round. "Have you been a-walking with Tom, then?" "No, mother, I only met him--coming home--and he walked beside me," said the girl, with crimson cheeks. "Theer, theer, theer," said Joe, interposing, "let the bairn alone. Daisy, my lass, mak' me a round o' toast." How Joe was going to dispose of a round of toast after the meal he had already devoured was a problem; but Daisy darted a grateful look at him, made the toast--which was not eaten--and then, after the things were cleared away, read for an hour to her father, straight up and down the columns of the week-old county paper, till it was time for bed, without a single interruption. But Mrs Banks made up for it when they went to bed, and the last words Joe heard before going to sleep were-- "Well, Joe, I wash my hands of the affair. It's your doing, and she's your own bairn."