these will; so I thought I would do them first."

"I told mother to come and take a cup o' tea with us at five o'clock; it must be near that now."

He drew out a clumsy, old-fashioned watch from his pocket and glanced at it.

"It wants nigh on twenty minutes to, my girl, so if we mean to get out our things we must be quick."

"These are done now," she answered, gathering up the bits and putting them into the fire, where they crackled up into a blaze and made the kettle boil up in good earnest.

So she took off her bonnet, and when she came back Jem had put a small square hamper on the table ready for her to open.

"Do you think mother would like to see what my mistress has given me?" she asked a little timidly; for "mother" was a new word to her lips; hitherto it had always been "your mother."

"I dare say she would, Meg; and tea don't matter for a few minutes."

So Meg left the hamper untouched and went to the cupboard where she had seen the cups, and began to set three on a small tray she found there.

"Here is some milk, Jem!" she exclaimed; "how kind your mother is; and some bread and butter too all ready."

"Mother's in general very thoughtful," he answered, going over to her and lifting the tray to the chiffonier. "It will be handy there, against we have cleared the table."

At this moment there was a knock at the door, which Jem hastened to answer by opening it wide.

"I've brought her," he said, by way of introduction.

And then Mrs. Seymour saw her new daughter-in-law for the first time. That slim graceful figure, clothed in a simple, plainly-made dress of some mixture of grey and brown, which Meg had decided on for her wedding dress, because it would wear well in London, and then the blushing gentle face above it. Jem had not said a word too much in her praise, as far as she could judge by the first glance.

"Welcome, my dear," she said, advancing and kissing her; "I'm glad as my Jem is made happy at last."

"We waited for you, mother," said Jem, when he had placed her in the arm-chair, "because Meg thought as you'd like to see the things unpacked; they was put in by Mrs. MacDonald's own hands."

"That I should," answered Mrs. Seymour heartily, drawing nearer to the table; "what is it?"

"I don't know," answered Meg; "she called me in this morning and she said, 'Archer,'—you know it was only mother called me Meg at home; at mistress's I was always called Archer, so she said, 'Archer, I've put you in a few things to begin on, and so that you will not have to begin cooking at once. Remember, however, that a workman's wages will not buy these sort of things. It is only as a little wedding treat.'"

"That's very true," said Mrs. Seymour, referring to the wages.

"Ah, we know that," answered Meg cheerfully, with a bright glance at Jem; "but it's very kind of her all the same."

By this time Jem had undone the strings, and the hamper lay open before them. First there were a couple of fine chickens all ready cooked, done up in a clean cloth; then there were some sausages; after that a blancmange in a basin; then a bottle of cream; and lastly, some fresh butter and a box of new-laid eggs.

Underneath everything else was a flat parcel tied up in pieces of thin board.

"A wedding present to Margaret Archer, as a mark of Mrs. MacDonald's esteem, wishing her and her husband every happiness."

"Oh!" exclaimed Meg; "she said I should find her present at home! Jem, whatever can it be?"

"I guess," said Jem, trying to get his fingers underneath it to lift it up. But he had to find another way, for the package resisted his efforts by sticking close to the bottom of the hamper as if it were glued.

"It's mighty heavy," he said. And then they found that the strings had been so placed as to allow of its being easily lifted out by them.

"A clock!" said Mrs. Seymour, delighted. "Oh, Jem, how I did want to get you a clock, but I could not manage it anyhow."

He put his broad hand on hers gratefully.

"I know, mother," he answered. "Don't ye think as I've eyes to see as all these things wasn't here when I left here last evening?"

A sweet smile came over the worn face, and with almost an arch look she answered,

"There's a certain bag in my drawer that used to be pretty heavy once, that I kept to buy things for 'Jem's wife.' It's empty now though."

"For me?" asked Meg; and then she blushed so much that she had to help Jem very industriously to undo the knots in the strings.

"For you," answered her mother-in-law.

And when Jem lifted out the present, they found it was a very nice clock, which would strike the hours.

"Shall I move this on one side?" asked Meg, touching the vase in the centre of the mantel-shelf.

"Put it on the chiffonier," said Jem, placing the clock where she had made room for it. "Don't it look handsome?"

After they had all admired it till they had no more words at their command, Meg turned to the basket again.

"Jem, we must have one of these fowls to-night for tea, because mother is here."

"You're very kind, my dear," said Mrs. Seymour, "but I don't wish to eat up your good things."

"Who should enjoy them if not you?" asked Meg heartily, quickly clearing away the papers and things, and placing the hamper tidily in a corner. She spread the cloth and set out the fowl on one of the dishes, putting the sausages round as a garnish; then she poured out some cream, and found a plate for the country butter, which quite ornamented the table, with its pretty cow resting on the circle of grass.

"My mother put us in a loaf of her home-made bread," she exclaimed, turning to Jem; "can you get it out of my basket?"

Jem laughed. It already stood on a plate at her elbow.

"We are ready then, mother," said Meg, preparing to sit down at the tray. "Will you come to the table?"

"I don't think you've made the tea yet, my dear," answered Mrs. Seymour smiling, as she glanced at the still steaming kettle.

Meg looked disconcerted, but Jem only patted her cheek, and said tenderly,

"We can't expect little wives to remember everything the first day, can we?"

Meg had to ask where the tea was kept, and then they gathered round the table.

Jem bent his head and asked their God to bless them now and always, and Mrs. Seymour added a gentle and solemn Amen.

CHAPTER III.

THE LOST BROOCH.

EM had been brought up as a painter, and had served his time in that trade. But painters are often slack, as he knew to his cost; and when he had nothing much to do he used to employ his fingers in another way. Besides, there were long evenings and half holidays when he could pursue the avocation which he liked much better than even painting.

During the years in which he had been learning his trade he had been thrown with carpenters and builders of every class, and he soon had made up his mind that he would learn all he could, so that, should the opportunity ever come, he should know how to be a builder