The Paper Cap. A Story of Love and Labor. Barr Amelia E.

anything Harry Bradley says, thy father won’t hev any nonsense about him. I can tell thee that!”

      “Father is so set in his own way. No one suits him lately. We met Captain Chandos last Monday, and he would hardly notice him.”

      “Well, then, there are plenty of folk no one can suit, and varry often they can’t suit themselves.”

      “Oh, I don’t care about Chandos, mother; but I feel angry when Harry is slighted. You see, mother, I might come to marry Harry Bradley.”

      “I do hope thou won’t be so far left to thysen, as that would mean.”

      “Then you would be wise to let me go to London. A girl must have a lover, or she feels out in the cold, and Harry is the best specimen of a man round about Annis.”

      “All right. Let me tell thee that I hev noticed that the girls who never throw a line into the sea of marriage, do a deal better than them that are allays fishing.”

      “Perhaps so, but then there is the pleasure of throwing the line.”

      “And perhaps the pleasure of being caught by some varry undesireable fisherman for tha needn’t think that women are the only fishers. The men go reg’lar about that business and they will soon find out that thou hes a bit o’ money o’ thy awn and are well worth catching. See if they doan’t.”

      “Mother, I want to go to London and see the passing of the great Reform Bill. I am in love with those brave men Earl Grey and Lord Russell and Mr. Macaulay, who dared to speak up for the poor, before all England.”

      “I rather think they are all married men, Katherine, and marrying for love is an unwise and generally an unprofitable bit of business.”

      “Business and Love have nothing to do with each other.”

      “Eh, but they hev!”

      “I shall marry for love.”

      “Well, then, marry for love, but love wisely.”

      “Money is only one thing, mother.”

      “To be sure, but it is a rayther important thing.”

      “You might persuade father that he had better take me to London out of Harry’s way. Dear mammy, do this for your little girl, won’t you? You can always get round father in some way or other.”

      “I will ask thy father again but I shall take no roundabout way. Straightforrard is the best. And I am above a bit astonished at thee, a Yorkshire lass, thinking of any crooked road to what thou wants! If tha can’t get thy way openly and fairly make up thy mind any other way isn’t worth while, for it will be full of ups and downs, and lonely bits, and stony bits, and all sorts and kinds of botherations. Keep these words in thy mind.”

      “I will.”

      “Then I’ll ask thy father again, to take thee with him to London – if he goes himsen – if he does not go at all, then – ”

      “I must find out some other way, and really the most straightforward way would be to marry Harry Bradley, and go to London with him as a wedding trip.”

      “Thou must stop talking nonsense or else it will stop my talking one word for thy wish.”

      “I was just joking, mother.”

      “Always keep everything straight between thysen and thy mother. The first deception between me and thee opens the gates of Danger.”

      “I will never forget that, mother. And if I should go away I ask you to take my place with Faith Foster, who is making clothing for the poor in the village.”

      “Well, Katherine, what with one thing and what with another, I doan’t know what tha wants. Does tha know thysen?”

      “Well, I think it would look better if the Hall should trouble itself a little about the suffering in the village. Faith Foster is the only person doing anything. I was helping her, but – ”

      “I should think thou would have told thysen that it was varry forrard in a young person putting herself in my place without even a word to me on the matter. She ought to hev come and told me what was needed and offered her help to me. Thy father is Lord of the Manor of Annis, and it is his business to see the naked clothed. I wonder at thee letting any one take my place and then asking me to help and do service for them. That is a bit beyond civility, I think.”

      “It was very thoughtless. I am sorry I did it. I was so touched by Faith’s description of the hunger and nakedness in Abram Oddy’s family, that I thought of nothing but how to relieve it.”

      “Well, well! It is all right, someway or other. I see father coming towards the house. I wonder what he is wanting.”

      “And he is walking so rapidly and looks so happy, something must have pleased him. I will go away, mother. This may be a good hour for our request.”

      “Why our?”

      Katherine had disappeared. She left the room by one door as the squire entered by the other. Madam rose to meet him but before she could speak the squire had kissed her and was saying in glad eager tones, “I hev hurried a bit, my Joy, to tell thee that both thysen and Katherine can go wi’ me to London. I had a lump of good fortune this afternoon. Mark Clitheroe sent me the thousand pounds he owed, when he broke up five years ago. He told me he wouldn’t die till he had paid it; and I believed him. The money came to-day and it came with a letter that does us both credit.”

      “However has Clitheroe made a thousand pounds to spare since his smash-up? Thou said, it wer a varry complete ruin.”

      “It was all of that, yet he tells me, he will be able to pay the last farthing he owes to anyone, during this year some time.”

      “It caps me! How hes he made the money?”

      “Why, Annie, his father built a factory for him and filled it with the finest power-looms and he says he hes been doing a grand business. Old Clitheroe hed allays told him he was wasting time and good brass in hand weaving but Mark would hev his awn way, and somehow his awn way took him to ruin in three years. I was his main creditor. Well, well! I am both astonished and pleased, I am that! Now get thysen and Katherine ready for London.”

      “I doan’t really want to go, Antony.”

      “But I cannot do without thee. Thou wilt hev to go, and there is Katherine, too! Ten to one, she will need a bit of looking after.”

      “When art thou going to start?”

      “Not for a month. I must see to the sowing of the land – the land feeds us. I thought, though, it would be right to give thee the bit o’ change and pleasure to think about and talk about.”

      “Where does thou intend to stay while in London?”

      “I am thinking of the Clarendon Hotel for thee and mysen. I suppose Katherine can be comfortable and welcome at her sister’s.”

      “Certainly she can. Jane isn’t anything but kind at heart. It is just her you-shallness that makes her one-sided to live with. But Katherine can hold her own side, without help, she can that! And if thou art bound for London, then London is the place where my heart will be and we will go together.”

      “Thou art a good wife to me, Annie.”

      “Well, then, I promised thee to be a good wife, and I’m Yorkshire enough to keep a promise – good or bad. I am glad thou art going to the Clarendon. It is a pleasant house but thy sister Josepha is a bit overbearing, isn’t she, Antony?”

      “She does not overbear me. I am her eldest brother. I make her remember that. Howiver, I shall hev to listen to such a lot o’ strong language in the House that I must hev only thee about me when I can get away from committees, and divisions, taking of votes, and the like.”

      By this time the squire had filled his pipe, and seated himself in his favorite corner on that side of the hearth, that had no draughts whichever way the wind blew. Then Madam said: “I’ll leave thee a few minutes, Antony. I am going to tell Katherine that thou art going to take her to London.”

      “Varry