‘What, miss?’ asked Jack Kimble from behind her. As soon as she noticed the stranger, she honoured him with an extremely impudent stare, and scarcely endeavoured to disguise the admiration with which his good looks impressed her. "Hist!" exclaimed Jack. As she approached, the carpenter's wife eyed her from head to foot, in the hope of finding something in her person or apparel to quarrel with. It was a charming sight to watch the motions of her tiny fingers as she pursued her task; and though the posture she adopted was not the most favourable that might have been chosen for the display of her sylphlike figure, there was something in her attitude, and the glow of her countenance, lighted up by the mellow radiance of the setting sun falling upon her through the panes of the little dormer-window, that seemed to the youth inexpressibly beautiful. "If I were your father, young gentleman," returned Jackson, enraged at the interruption, "I'd teach you not to speak till you were spoken to. “But I am your husband,” he said. He remembered it suddenly.
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