“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?”