you something nice, Missis Barnicott; don't let us say who the young gentleman is, and see what she will say. I warrant you she'll soon have an inkling of it."

Sally Flamstead was already in the garden. She came on lightly in her nice light muslin dress, and her pretty white bonnet with a red rose in it, and her little blue parasol dangling loosely in her left hand. But as soon as she saw the stranger she blushed, and coming forward timidly, she said, "Oh! Mrs. Barnicott, I did not know you had company." Her sweet face was all blushes and roses, but it was smiling and charming. Luke rose, took off his hat, and made her a polite bow. Sally returned a respectful curtsey, and going up to Mrs. Barnicott, kissed her, and sat down beside her. Poor old Beckey had hard work to contain herself. She trembled, and tears rushed from her blind eyes, and she kissed Miss Flamstead again and again. Luke and Amy stood; Luke gazing with a respectful but fascinated gaze on the smart young farmeress, and Amy looking nobody could tell how—half smiling a suppressed smile, and half curious, and fit to burst out with, "It's Luke, Miss Flamstead, it's Luke!"

"I hope you have no bad news, my dear Mrs. Barnicott," said Miss Flamstead, wondering at her agitation.

"No! no!" said old Beckey. "Good news! good news!" and she shook her head as with an agony of emotion, and then burst out, "Luke's alive! I've heard of him—this—this—oh! he's seen him! he's seen him in th' Indies!"

Miss Flamstead sprang to her feet, gave a look at Luke, and then uttering a sort of shriek, she clasped her hands, and crying, "Oh! it is he!" she sank on the seat. Luke sprang forward, seized her clasped hands, kissed them passionately; and then Miss Flamstead standing up and looking at him in wonder and as in a dream, they thus stood for some time holding each others hands, while poor old Beckey and Amy cried silently and plentifully for joy.

We may leave them awhile under the old hanging elder tree, and let some days and weeks roll on, as they did roll joyously at the Reckoning House, and at Langlee farm. All the old courtship of childhood was renewed. Luke and Sally Flamstead have strolled about the old farm-yard and the old fields. They have laughed as they stepped by the old bramble-bush, by the paddock-gate, and remembered the hidden pork-pie, and the hidden little bottle of beer, and of cold days there. The bells have rung out merrily from the tall stone tower of Monnycrofts church, and a gay wedding party has descended the long churchyard steps, and taken its way through the swarming villagers, along the village street, and down the lane to Langlee farm. There Luke and Sally live as happily as if they were in a Robinson Crusoe's island, or more so; and more so than if he had been a king and had made Sally a queen. Luke has bought the old mill on the hill, Ives's old mill, and it still swings its great arms as if beckoning everybody up to see something wonderful. Old Beckey still lives in the Reckoning House, and Luke always looks in as he goes up the hill to the mill, and often the old woman is fetched down to Langlee farm to pass whole days and weeks with him. There she has a nice tall-backed cushioned chair set for her in a sunny corner, and she delights to ramble about the garden and smell the flowers, and about the farm-yard, and listen to the fowls and ducks and geese and pigeons, and fancy that she sees them.