"An' me niver so much as openin' my lips," said Mrs Stokes, crying meekly and holding up her hands. "An' I did think as Faith would ha' bin a comfort, me so weak, wi' no sproyle, nor nothin', and gran'father only just fit to totle about." "It ain't much comfort you'm like to get out o' maedens," said Araunah, still bitterly. "They'm so hard to manage as a drove o' pegs. Faith shall bide where her be, though, for all her mother's setting up." "Has she made up her mind, then, to marry this man?" asked Winifred, interested. "He doan't give her the chance," said the grandfather angrily, striking his stick upon the ground. "Girl's a fule, that's t' long an' short o't, an' he bain't so beg a wan." "He knows better nor to persume," said Mrs Stokes, indignant for Faith's sake. "You see, Miss Winifred, he doan't feel he've got enough to offer our maed,--I doan't know what her can be thinkin' of," continued her mother, dissolving suddenly again. "An' her'd give up a good pleace. But her shall bide, her shall bide." "Though it mayn't be for long, with Mr Anthony goin' to be married hisself." Self-possession is a wonderful power. We read with a thrill of amazement of the Spartan boy, and the fox, and the hidden agony, but, after all, the heroism is repeated day by day around us. There are people getting stabs from unconscious executioners, and the life dying out of them, while they are smiling and keeping up the little ball of conversation, and betraying nothing of the pang. Winifred's voice became a little gayer than usual as she said,-- "Mr Anthony? Is he going to be married?" "To Miss Lovell down to Under'm, haven't you heard it, miss? It's that has set Faith thinkin' more o' that Stephens." "I woan't have it," said the old man, querulously. "I woan't have she comin' hoam to we, ating and drinking. Polly has more sense than Faith and her mother putt together."