"Ay, no less, Miss Fancy Day; as neat a little figure of fun as ever I
see, and just husband-high."

"Never Geoffrey's daughter Fancy?" said Bowman, as all glances present
converged like wheel-spokes upon the boot in the centre of them.

"Yes, sure," resumed Mr. Penny, regarding the boot as if that alone were
his auditor; "'tis she that's come here schoolmistress. You knowed his
daughter was in training?"

"Strange, isn't it, for her to be here Christmas night, Master Penny?"

"Yes; but here she is, 'a b'lieve."

"I know how she comes here--so I do!" chirruped one of the children.

"Why?" Dick inquired, with subtle interest.

"Pa'son Maybold was afraid he couldn't manage us all to-morrow at the
dinner, and he talked o' getting her jist to come over and help him hand
about the plates, and see we didn't make pigs of ourselves; and that's
what she's come for!"

"And that's the boot, then," continued its mender imaginatively, "that
she'll walk to church in to-morrow morning. I don't care to mend boots I
don't make; but there's no knowing what it may lead to, and her father
always comes to me."

There, between the cider-mug and the candle, stood this interesting