and palempours were intermixed with commoner black and red calico in minute hexagons; and the variety of patterns served for the useful purpose of promoting conversation as well as the more obvious one of displaying the work-woman ’s taste.  Sylvia, for instance, began at once to her old friend, Molly Brunton, who had accompanied her into this chamber to take off her hat and cloak, with a remark on one of the chintzes.  Stooping over the counterpane, with a face into which the flush would come whether or no, she said to Molly,—­

‘Dear!  I never seed this one afore—­this—­for all t’ world like th’ eyes in a peacock’s tail.’

’Thou’s seen it many a time and oft, lass.  But weren’t thou surprised to find Charley here?  We picked him up at Shields, quite by surprise like; and when Brunton and me said as we was comin’ here, nought would serve him but comin’ with us, for t’ see t’ new year in.  It’s a pity as your mother’s ta’en this time for t’ fall ill and want yo’ back so early.’

Sylvia had taken off her hat and cloak by this time, and began to help Molly and a younger unmarried sister in laying out the substantial supper.

‘Here,’ continued Mrs. Brunton; ‘stick a bit o’ holly i’ yon pig’s mouth, that’s the way we do things i’ Newcassel; but folks is so behindhand in Monkshaven.  It’s a fine thing to live in a large town, Sylvia; an’ if yo’re looking out for a husband, I’d advise yo’ to tak’ one as lives in a town.  I feel as if I were buried alive comin’ back here, such an out-o’-t’-way place after t’ Side, wheere there’s many a hundred carts and carriages goes past in a day.  I’ve a great mind for t’ tak yo’ two lassies back wi’ me, and let yo’ see a bit o’ t’ world; may-be, I may yet.

Her sister Bessy looked much pleased with this plan, but Sylvia was rather inclined to take offence at Molly’s patronizing ways, and replied,—­

‘I’m none so fond o’ noise and bustle; why, yo’ll not be able to hear yoursels speak wi’ all them carts and carriages.  I’d rayther bide at home; let alone that mother can’t spare me.’

It was, perhaps, a rather ungracious way of answering Molly Brunton’s speech, and so she felt it to be, although her invitation had been none of the most courteously worded.  She irritated Sylvia still further by repeating her last words,—­

’"Mother can’t spare me;” why, mother ’ll have to spare thee sometime, when t’ time for wedding comes.’

‘I’m none going to be wed,’ said Sylvia; ’and if I were, I’d niver go far fra’ mother.’

’Eh! what a spoilt darling it is.  How Brunton will laugh when I tell him about yo’; Brunton’s a rare one for laughin’.  It’s a great thing to have got such a merry man for a husband.  Why! he has his joke for every one as comes into t’ shop; and he’ll ha’ something funny to say to everything this evenin’.’

Bessy saw that Sylvia was annoyed, and, with more delicacy than her sister, she tried to turn the conversation.