I fear that all this talk on our part only hurried matters forward, Annie being more determined every time we pitied her. And at last Tom Faggus came, and spoke as if he were on the King's road, with a pistol at my head, and one at mother's. 'No more fast and loose,' he cried. 'either one thing or the other. I love the maid, and she loves me; and we will have one another, either with your leave, or without it. How many more times am I to dance over these vile hills, and leave my business, and get nothing more than a sigh or a kiss, and “Tom, I must wait for mother”? You are famous for being straightforward, you Ridds. Just treat me as I would treat you now.'

I looked at my mother; for a glance from her would have sent Tom out of the window; but she checked me with her hand, and said, 'You have some ground of complaint, sir; I will not deny it. Now I will be as straight-forward with you, as even a Ridd is supposed to be. My son and myself have all along disliked your marriage with Annie. Not for what you have been so much, as for what we fear you will be. Have patience, one moment, if you please. We do not fear your taking to the highway life again; for that you are too clever, no doubt, now that you have property. But we fear that you will take to drinking, and to squandering money. There are many examples of this around us; and we know what the fate of the wife is. It has been hard to tell you this, under our own roof, and with our own—' Here mother hesitated.

'Spirits, and cider, and beer,' I broke in; 'out with it, like a Ridd, mother; as he will have all of it.'

'Spirits, and cider, and beer,' said mother very firmly after me; and then she gave way and said, 'You know, Tom, you are welcome to every drop and more of it.'

Now Tom must have had a far sweeter temper than ever I could claim; for I should have thrust my glass away, and never have taken another drop in the house where such a check had met me. But instead of that, Master Faggus replied, with a pleasant smile,—

'I know that I am welcome, good mother; and to prove it, I will have some more.'

And thereupon be mixed himself another glass of hollands with lemon and hot water, yet pouring it very delicately.

'Oh, I have been so miserable—take a little more, Tom,' said mother, handing the bottle.

'Yes, take a little more,' I said; 'you have mixed it over weak, Tom.'

'If ever there was a sober man,' cried Tom, complying with our request; 'if ever there was in Christendom a man of perfect sobriety, that man is now before you. Shall we say to-morrow week, mother? It will suit your washing day.'