“And his nose turns up!”
“Not as much as thine, Jenny.”
“Mine!” cried Jenny, in angry amazement, “Grandmother, what will you say next? My nose is as straight as—as the church tower.”
“Maybe it is, in general, my lass. But just now thou art turning it up at poor Tom.”
“‘Poor Tom,’ indeed!” said Jenny, in a disgusted tone. “He’d best not come after me, or I’ll ‘poor Tom’ him. I want none of him, I can tell you.”
“Well, Jenny, don’t lose thy temper over Tom, or Robin either. Thou’rt like the most of maids—they’ll never heed the experience of old folks. If thou wilt not be ‘ruled by the rudder, thou must be ruled by the rock.’ ‘All is not gold that glitters,’ and I’m afeard thou shalt find it so, poor soul! But I can’t put wisdom into thee; I can only pray the Lord to give it thee. Be thy bags packed up?”
“Ay,” said Jenny, rather sulkily.
“And all ready to set forth?”
“There’s just a few little things to see to yet.”
“Best go and see to them, then.”