you can’t think how I love it.”
“No,” said Julia, softly, and looking curiously at the young mother, “I suppose not.”
“Oh, here is Budge,” said little Mrs Morrison, as a heavy, stolid-looking girl entered the room. “She will take baby now, Miss. There, Budge, take her in the kitchen, and don’t go too near the fire.”
“No, missus,” said the girl, taking the well-wrapped-up baby in her red arms, staring heavily the while at the visitors, and consequently nearly bringing her charge to grief by stumbling over a stool.
“Oh, Budge!” cried little Mrs Morrison.
“I ain’t hurt, missus,” said the girl coolly, and she allowed herself to be piloted out of the room by her mistress, when a chair was heard to scroop.
“Oh, how funny it does seem!” cried Cynthia.
“Hush! don’t talk like that,” said her sister; “here she is.”
Little Mrs Morrison came into the room again, looking very red-faced and hot.
“What a funny little maid you have got, Polly!” cried Cynthia.
“Yes, Miss Cynthia; she is from the workhouse, and she is a little clumsy, but she is very faithful, and so fond of baby.”
“And what is to be its name?” cried Cynthia.
“Rose, Miss; and – and,” stammered the young wife, looking very hard at Julia.
“And what, Polly?”
“I – I had a sort of idea, Miss Julia, that – ”
“That what, Polly? Speak out!”
“Of asking you and Miss Cynthia if – ”
“If what?”
“You wouldn’t mind being little Rose’s godmothers.”
“Oh, no, Polly,” said Julia, “I think not.”
“Oh, yes, Ju, it would be good fun,” cried Cynthia.
“I told Tom it would be too much to ask, Miss Julia; but he said you could only say no.”
“Of course,” said Julia, thoughtfully. “And he is very kind to you?”
“Oh, kind isn’t the word, Miss Julia,” cried the young wife.
“And are his relations kind to you too?”
“He has no relations, Miss, but one brother,” replied Polly, “and he is a good deal of trouble to him – I mean to us,” she added, correcting herself.
“Trouble to you, Polly?”
“Yes, Miss; he won’t work, and he has taken to a gipsy sort of life, and goes poaching, I’m afraid.”
“That’s very, very sad,” said Julia, remembering that her father had just been made chairman of the bench of magistrates.
“Yes, Miss, very, very sad, for we are always afraid of his getting into trouble; but there, you know, Miss, what brothers are.”
“Yes, yes,” said Julia, hastily. “I will think about what you said, Polly,” she added, rising, and holding out her hand, “and if papa does not object, Cynthia and I will be godmothers to baby.”
“Oh, if you would, Miss!” cried the young wife, flushing with pride; and then, in a low voice, as Cynthia went on out of the room, “You always were kind to me, Miss Julia, and more like a sister than a mistress. May I kiss you, Miss?”
“Oh, yes, Polly,” said Julia, kissing her smilingly.
“You always were kind to me, Miss, and there’s nothing in life I wouldn’t do for you if you wanted it.”
“Come, Ju,” cried Cynthia, from without.
“Oh, thank you, Polly, I know you would.”
“And you’d come and ask me, Miss, if you wanted help, wouldn’t you?”
“Indeed I would, Polly; but why do you ask me in that strange way?”
“Because – because, Miss, I want to ask a favour of you now,” cried the young wife, desperately.
“What is it, Polly?” said Julia, showing deep interest now.
“Please, Miss, you – you remember when we were at Dinan.”
“Yes, yes; what?” cried Julia.
“About Mr Cyril.”
“Yes,” cried Julia, catching her hand; “he has not dared?”
“He – he came here yesterday, Miss, while Tom was out,” cried Polly, bursting into tears, “and he came once before; and it frightens me, Miss – it horrifies me; for Tom loves me so dearly, Miss; and it would make him angry, and break his heart if he thought ill of me, Miss Julia.”
“But did you encourage him to come again?” cried Julia, angrily.
“No, Miss Julia, I nearly went on my knees to him, and begged him not to come again, but he only laughed, and – and called me a little fool.”
“You shall tell your husband, Polly,” cried Julia, hotly.
“I – I was afraid, Miss Julia,” sobbed Polly. “I was afraid of making mischief. I dared not tell him. If he thought Mr Cyril came here and troubled me, he would be ready to kill him, Miss, and me too. Oh, what shall I do, what shall I do?”
“I’ll tell papa,” said Cynthia, who had come back unseen. “I declare it’s shameful, and I – I wish my brothers were both dead. Oh, Ju, papa must know.”
“No, no,” said Julia, holding the sobbing little woman to her breast; “Polly is right. It would be making terrible mischief. I’ll speak to Cyril myself, and if he will not listen to me, mamma shall try. But, Polly, you will tell me if he comes again?”
“Oh, yes, yes, Miss Julia,” cried the young wife, gazing up passionately in her visitor’s face.
“And always tell me the whole truth?”
“Indeed – indeed I will. Please, Miss Julia,” she said simply, “I don’t think I ever told a lie.”
“I don’t believe you ever did, Polly,” said Julia, kissing her, and turning to the door to go. “There, good-bye, and don’t be low-spirited. Cyril is soon going away again, and even if he is not, he shall not trouble you.”
“Thank you, Miss Julia, and you too, Miss Cynthia,” said the young wife, wiping her eyes; “and perhaps you will be at baby’s christening?”
“If papa doesn’t object, indeed we will,” cried Julia, smiling, and the sisters went back along the lane.
“I would – I would indeed,” said the young mother, softly; “I’d do anything to serve dear Miss
