the worse is he, if she had known nothing about it.  And I dare say all young men are alike; and he’s better than the most half of them.  There was Elsie so taken up with that lad Dalzell, that came courting Miss Jean, and if she had heard half that was said about him, poor Mr. Brandon would have been a saint in comparison.  But an opening for Miss Jane is aye worth something.  To think of her being put under the like of Mrs. Phillips; and it’s like I’ll see Emily—­a spoiled bairn, no doubt—­but she had naturally a fine disposition, at least humanly speaking.”

It was not in human nature, however, that Peggy should quite lose sight of her own concerns in her pleasure at the thought of Miss Melville having something better to do than dressmaking.  The recollection of the years of hard work that had converted her little shop into a freehold, her old pride in having her title made out on parchment, the hurry she had been in to get it let, to go home by a particular ship, and the obstinate way in which her tenant’s wife insisted on a right of purchase, and her own reluctant admission of the clause, thinking that as the house was not new, 250 pounds was an outside value for it, and now to think of its being such a kingdom.  The town had run up to her little suburban shop, and far past it; on every side the monster, Melbourne, had been adding to his extent, and now, on account of the bit of garden and large yard, that she had thought would be so nice for the children, when she had them out, and that she had bought very cheap, the value of her property was increased tenfold—­but she was none the richer.  The sacrifice she had made had turned out even greater than she had expected, and now she could not help thinking of how she would miss Miss Melville, and what a loss it would be to her bairns; and how she was to keep Miss Elsie in tolerable spirits without her sister was another perplexity.

The duties of the day were gone through as usual, however; but when the children and the old man had gone to bed, Peggy made up her mind to make a martyr of herself, and to sit up for the young ladies, who had not been home all day, and with a piece of mending in her hands, which got on but slowly, she mused on her ill luck.  Very tired and sleepy, and a little out of humour, she was when she opened the door for Jane and Elsie.

“Well, well!  I just hope you’re the better of your late hours, though they are not just what I approve of.”

“Only once in a way, Peggy; our holiday will soon be over.  But you should not have sat up for us—­promise not to do it again.  We have enjoyed the theatre to-night, have we not, Elsie?”

“Yes, but the disenchantment comes so soon again.”

“I have no great opinion of theatres and play-acting, and such like.  I was once in a theatre in Melbourne, though,” said Peggy.

“With one of your sweethearts, Peggy?” asked Jane.

“Whisht with your nonsense, Miss Jean; don’t be talking of sweethearts to a douce woman like me,” said Peggy, who, nevertheless was rather proud of her Australian conquests, and liked to hear them alluded to now and then.