the last verse of the National Anthem, to a tune which might possibly have been like "God Save the Queen" if it had not borne an equal resemblance to "The Dead March in Saul." 

 Music, we know, has charms to soothe the savage breast, and, whether because of Margaret's patriotic outburst, or because the beer was of excellent quality, Ted's face was wreathed in smiles when he set down the mug. 

 "Ah," he said, "we'se never ha' no words if ye tackle me this gate. I'd drink the Queen's 'ealth again if you axed me." 

 "Enough's good as a feast," returned his hostess sententiously. "It'll be tay-time afore aught's long." 

 "Mun I bide for tay?" inquired Ted, with his head on one side. 

 "Ye can if ye've a mind," said Margaret, accommodatingly. "Ye can be lookin' round if ye like while I'm gettin' things ready." 

 Ted complied, nothing loth, and stalked about the place with his thumbs in his armholes and an air of proprietorship. Everything without was as snug, neat, and prosperous as everything within. The garden was well-stocked and weedless; the potatoes seemed to be coming on nicely; the pig was as fat as a self-respecting pig ought to be, and the chickens were healthy and well-grown. Ted re-entered the house, scraping his feet carefully this time, and looking at Margaret with increased respect as she bustled about. The kettle already sung merrily on the hob, a plateful of most inviting buttered toast was keeping warm within the fender, and Miss Hep. was in the act of placing on the table a smoking dish of nicely-browned sausages. 

 "I made 'em mysel'," she explained briefly. "I dunnot often have 'em at this time o' day, but this here's an occasion." 

 Ted looked blank for a moment, then, suddenly remembering that this was practically a betrothal-feast, responded heartily, and drew in his chair to the table with pleased anticipation. 

 Miss Heptonstall, he remarked, had everything "gradely" about her. The table-cloth was not only snow-white and beautifully mended, but of fine quality; the spoons were silver, worn to egg-shell thinness, but resplendently bright; the teapot, a heavy, old-fashioned Britannia metal one, was polished till it might have been of the same precious ore; the cups and plates were of delicate transparent china. Margaret came of good old north-country stock, and these possessions were heirlooms. Ted looked at 

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