Tears started into Jessie's eyes; she bent down and kissed—not the baby, but the cradle. "Will made it." She added blushing, "I mean the cradle, sir."
Time flew past while Kenelm talked with Will and the old mother, for Jessie was soon summoned back to the shop; and Kenelm was startled when he found the half-hour's grace allowed to him was over, and Jessie put her head in at the door and said, "Mrs. Braefield is waiting for you."
"Good-by, Will; I shall come to see you again soon; and my mother gives me a commission to buy I don't know how many specimens of your craft."
CHAPTER III.
A SMART pony-phaeton, with a box for a driver in livery equally smart, stood at the shop-door.
"Now, Mr. Chillingly," said Mrs. Braefield, "it is my turn to run away with you; get in!"
"Eh!" murmured Kenelm, gazing at her with large dreamy eyes. "Is it possible?"
"Quite possible; get in. Coachman, home! Yes, Mr. Chillingly, you meet again that giddy creature whom you threatened to thrash; it would have served her right. I ought to feel so ashamed to recall myself to your recollection, and yet I am not a bit ashamed. I am proud to show you that I have turned out a steady, respectable woman, and, my husband tells me, a good wife."
"You have only been six months married, I hear," said Kenelm, dryly.
"I hope your husband will say the same six years hence."
"He will say the same sixty years hence, if we live as long."