“They’re a trouble that’s well worth while, anyway.  Children, I mean,” said Judith.

“Ah! so some of us says as hasn’t got en.  We can all stand any joys that come along, but we’d all like to have the choosen’ of our troubles,” replied Mrs. Penticost non-committally.

“I certainly think children must be the nicest troubles one can choose,” remarked Judith.

“There’s many a poor maid that’s thought otherwise,” responded Mrs. Penticost.

“Oh, well, I didn’t mean that way ... that’s a trouble for the children too when they grow up ... worse than for the mother.  That’s why it’s wicked to have them like that.  I meant if one were married.”

“It’s not all honey then, my dear.  Look at Jenny Trewen down to the church-town.  She’m never had naught but boys, and she sticks every virtue on that maid she always wanted and that never came.  ’Twould have been just the same if it had been the other way on, if you see what I do mane.  ’Tes the babes as never are born that lie nearest to a mother’s heart....”

“What a terrible theory!” broke in Georgie, swinging her legs as she sat perched upon the corner of the table.  “And according to the same theory, are the men one never meets the nicest, and the picture one never paints the finest, and the kiss that never comes off the sweetest?”

Mrs. Penticost turned and surveyed her with a kindly tolerance for her impertinent youth.

“You’m spaken’ truer than you do knaw,” she told her.  “And truer than you’ll knaw for many a day to come if you’m one of the lucky ones.  Now I suppose you’ll be like you always were, Miss Judy, washing the life out of ’ee weth hot water?  The bath’s gone up overstairs.”

Judy laughingly got to her feet and went up to her room.  She was very tired; though she was tenacious of constitution, the first elasticity of youth was gone from her, and she was glad of the warm water, the soft bed, the light meal of eggs and cocoa that Mrs. Penticost brought her when she was between the sheets.  Ishmael was not the only one who felt a deadening of the spirit that night, and even on awakening the following morning.  Judith had carried that about with her in her consciousness for enough years now to recognise the old weight upon her thoughts on awakening.  But Georgie, triumphant, healthy, full of excitement at the new world that lay beyond the low wall of Paradise Cottage, ran into Judith’s room, the “best” bedroom, the one Blanche Grey had had when the childish Judy had been wont to come in as Georgie came in to the woman Judy now.  The turn of the wheel struck upon Miss Parminter’s mind as she lay and watched the slim, sturdy young thing perched upon the end of the bed, her boyish head bare and a ray of morning sun tingeing its soft brown to a brighter hue and showing up the clearness of her pale matt skin.

“I don’t think I much like your hero of romance,” grumbled Georgie.  “He took precious little notice of either of us, and he looks so surly.”