on fair women when the fugitive beauty of blushing is past. When the
work of the morning was done, and the clock in the kitchen was only
ten minutes from twelve, and the dinner was fit for the dishing, then
Mistress Anerley remembered as a rule the necessity of looking to her
own appearance. She went up stairs, with a quarter of an hour to spare,
but not to squander, and she came down so neat that the farmer was
obliged to be careful in helping the gravy. For she always sat next to
him, as she had done before there came any children, and it seemed ever
since to be the best place for her to manage their plates and their
manners as well.

Alas! that the kindest and wisest of women have one (if not twenty)
blind sides to them; and if any such weakness is pointed out, it is sure
to have come from their father. Mistress Anerley's weakness was almost
conspicuous to herself--she worshipped her eldest son, perhaps the least
worshipful of the family.

Willie Anerley was a fine young fellow, two inches taller than his
father, with delicate features, and curly black hair, and cheeks as
bright as a maiden's. He had soft blue eyes, and a rich clear voice,
with a melancholy way of saying things, as if he were above all this.
And yet he looked not like a fool; neither was he one altogether, when
he began to think of things. The worst of him was that he always wanted
something new to go on with. He never could be idle; and yet he never
worked to the end which crowns the task. In the early stage he would
labor hard, be full of the greatness of his aim, and demand every body's
interest, exciting, also, mighty hopes of what was safe to come of it.
And even after that he sometimes carried on with patience; but he
had not perseverance. Once or twice he had been on the very nick of
accomplishing something, and had driven home his nail; but then he let