The Little Missis

Creak—creak—creak! went the old mangle—one of the box sort, weighted with stones.
Are you dreadfully busy, Mrs. Colston? called out a clear, young voice.
Bless me, is that you, Miss Phebe? and the mangle was suddenly silent. No, I'm not dreadfully busy, and in two minutes I was going to make myself some tea; and if you——
Oh, won't I, rather! I should just think I will, you dearie; and I'll get it ready, too, while you play your last tune on your old organ.
Creak, creak, went the mangle, clatter went the cups, and in less than ten minutes the two were seated at a little round three-legged table enjoying tea and talk.
Can't think what's the matter with you to-day, Miss Phebe. Have you got a new dress on, or have you been doing something to your complexion, or what is it? asked Mrs. Colston, looking very intently across the table.
I have got my old dress on, and have not even washed my face in dew.
Well, then, what is it?—Ah, I know! you've fallen in love.
Yes, I fell in love with you a long time ago, answered her visitor demurely; but I see you've guessed my secret, you are so clever. The fact is, I have got two secrets to tell you. I wonder which I should bring out first!
The old mangle woman got up from her arm-chair, and, going to where the girl was sitting, took the fair young face into her hands and kissed the right cheek, saying, as the tears started to her eyes: There, my dear; that's in place of your mother's kiss, and, kissing the other cheek, that's for myself.
Resuming her seat there was silence for a minute or two, and then Mrs. Colston, said: I think I can guess both your secrets. The first is, you have given yourself to Jesus; and the second is, you have promised to marry Stephen Collins.