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"Jus' say your meanin', my pretty queen," said Mrs. Tawsey, as she stood at the sitting-room door, and watched Sylvia reading an ill-written letter. "It's twelve now, and I kin be back by five, arter a long, and enjiable tork with Matilder." "You certainly must go," replied Sylvia, handing back the letter. "I am sure your sister will be glad to see you, Debby."
As to Matilder, she an' me never did, what you might call, hit it orf, by reason of 'er not givin' way to me, as she should ha' done, me bein' the youngest and what you might call the baby of the lot. We ain't seen each other fur years, and the meetin' will be cold. She'll not have much forgiveness fur me bein' a bride, when she's but a lone cross-patch, drat her." "Don't quarrel with her, Debby.
"Sooner, if me an' Matilder don't hit if orf, or if we hit each other, which, knowin' 'er 'abits, I do expects. But Bart's out till six, and there won't be anyone to look arter them as washes four of 'em," added Mrs. Tawsey, rubbing her nose, "and as idle as porkpines." "Mrs. Purr can look after them." "Look arter gin more like," said Deborah, contemptuously.
"As soon as I can stand at the altar," she replied, blushing, whereat Deborah clapped her hands. "Weddin's an' weddin's an' weddin's agin," cried Mrs. Tawsey, "which my sister Matilder being weary of 'er spinstering 'ome 'ave made up 'er mind to marry the fust as offers. An' won't she lead 'im a dance neither oh, no, not at all."
"I'll look after those four women in the wash-house, and read this new book I have. Then I must get tea ready for Paul, who comes at four. The afternoon will pass quite quickly." "I'll be back at five if I can, and earlier if Matilder ain't what she oughter be," said Mrs. Tawsey, yielding. "So make yourself 'appy, honey, till you sees me smilin' again." In another quarter of an hour Mrs.
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