Margaret Maliphant

								

good heart, and it's Miss Joyce's pretty face that'll get it to do what
she likes with, you may take my word for it. The men they don't look to
the mind so much as they look to the face, and the temper--and Joyce,
why, her temper's as smooth as her skin; you can't say better than
that."
This was true, and Deborah was right to say it in praise, although I
do believe in her heart she had even a softer spot for me and my bad
temper than for Joyce and her gentle ways.
"Birds of a feather, I suppose."
"You seem to think that it's quite an unnatural thing for two men
to talk politics together, Deborah," said I, with a superior air of
wisdom. "But perhaps the squire is wiser than you fancy, and thinks
that at his time of life politics should be more in his way than pretty
faces."
Deborah laughed, quite good-humoredly this time.
"Hark at the lass!" cried she. "The time may come when you won't think
a man of five-and-thirty too old to look at a woman, my dear."
"Oh, I don't mind how old a man is!" laughed I, merrily, recovering
my good-humor at the remembrance of that second string I had to my bow
for my sister. "The men don't matter much to me--they never look twice
at me, you know well enough. But Joyce is too handsome to marry an old
widower, and I dare say if she waits a bit there'll come somebody by
who'll be better suited to her."
"Well, all I can say is, I hope she may have another chance as good,"
insisted the obstinate old thing, shaking out the last stocking
viciously and hanging it onto the line. "But she hasn't got it yet, you
know; and if folk all behave so queer and snappish, maybe she won't
have it at all. But you must all please yourselves," added she, as
though she washed her hands of us now. And then giving me another of
her sharp glances, she said, in conclusion, "And you know whether your
mother will like to see you with a torn frock or not."
I went in with my head in the air. I thought it was very impertinent
of Deb to talk of "good chances" in connection with my sister. I have
learned to know her better since then.
Her desire for that marriage was not all ambition for Joyce. But at
that time I little guessed what she already scented in the air.

CHAPTER IV.

It was a quarter of an hour before I reached the parlor, for I did
mend my frock in spite of my bit of temper. The cloth was laid for
dinner--a spotless cloth, for mother was very particular about her
table-linen--and the bright glass and the dinner-ware shone in
the sunlight. I can see the room now: a long, low room, with four
lattice-windows abreast, and a seat running the length of the windows;
opposite the windows a huge fireplace, across which ran one heavy oaken
beam bearing the date and the name of the Maliphants, and supported
by two stout masonry pillars, fashioned, tradition said, out of
that same soft stone of which a great part of the abbey was built.