"For me?" asked Meg; and then she blushed so much that she had to help Jem very industriously to undo the knots in the strings.

"For you," answered her mother-in-law.

And when Jem lifted out the present, they found it was a very nice clock, which would strike the hours.

"Shall I move this on one side?" asked Meg, touching the vase in the centre of the mantel-shelf.

"Put it on the chiffonier," said Jem, placing the clock where she had made room for it. "Don't it look handsome?"

After they had all admired it till they had no more words at their command, Meg turned to the basket again.

"Jem, we must have one of these fowls to-night for tea, because mother is here."

"You're very kind, my dear," said Mrs. Seymour, "but I don't wish to eat up your good things."

"Who should enjoy them if not you?" asked Meg heartily, quickly clearing away the papers and things, and placing the hamper tidily in a corner.

She spread the cloth and set out the fowl on one of the dishes, putting the sausages round as a garnish; then she poured out some cream, and found a plate for the country b.u.t.ter, which quite ornamented the table, with its pretty cow resting on the circle of gra.s.s.

"My mother put us in a loaf of her home-made bread," she exclaimed, turning to Jem; "can you get it out of my basket?"

Jem laughed. It already stood on a plate at her elbow.

"We are ready then, mother," said Meg, preparing to sit down at the tray. "Will you come to the table?"

"I don't think you've made the tea yet, my dear," answered Mrs. Seymour smiling, as she glanced at the still steaming kettle.

Meg looked disconcerted, but Jem only patted her cheek, and said tenderly,

"We can't expect little wives to remember everything the first day, can we?"

Meg had to ask where the tea was kept, and then they gathered round the table.

Jem bent his head and asked their G.o.d to bless them now and always, and Mrs. Seymour added a gentle and solemn Amen.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

[Ill.u.s.tration]

CHAPTER III.

THE LOST BROOCH.

Jem had been brought up as a painter, and had served his time in that trade. But painters are often slack, as he knew to his cost; and when he had nothing much to do he used to employ his fingers in another way.

Besides, there were long evenings and half holidays when he could pursue the avocation which he liked much better than even painting.

During the years in which he had been learning his trade he had been thrown with carpenters and builders of every cla.s.s, and he soon had made up his mind that he would learn all he could, so that, should the opportunity ever come, he should know how to be a builder himself.

But times had not as yet been propitious, and at twenty-five he found himself still only a painter, with a very fair knowledge of carpentering into the bargain.

About a year ago he had been taken on as a permanent hand at a large decorating-house, who undertook work in the country; and Jem, valued for his trustworthiness and general ability, was often sent as one of those who knew his own trade well, and also could turn his hand to several others.

Thus it came to pa.s.s in the early spring of this same year he had been sent to help in repairing Mrs. MacDonald's handsome house, and had stayed there for two months.

He had soon met with Meg, and had been struck with her gentle modesty of demeanour.

Hitherto the girls he had met had been dressed to the very utmost of their means, and had behaved in a flighty, loud manner which grated on his feelings.

"No such wife for me," he had said to his mother one evening, when they had just met one of their acquaintances in gaudy finery, which could not hide her slovenly boots or pinned-together dress.

His mother quite agreed. Hard-worked and poor as she was, no one had seen her anything but neat.

But Meg was different. As now and then he met her flitting up the stairs at the hall, or pa.s.sing to and from her mother's cottage, he knew he had to do with quite a different woman from those with whom he was accustomed to meet.

He was sauntering along a lane one afternoon in March when his work was over, thinking of all this, and enjoying the quiet twilight, when he saw a stooping figure in front of him eagerly looking for something.

"Have you lost anything?" he asked, coming up to the figure. "Can I help you?"

He found with a start that the subject of his thoughts was close to him.

Hitherto she had only nodded civilly in return for his pa.s.sing greeting, and now in the dusk hardly recognized him, though she knew he was a stranger to their village.

"Oh, thank you!" she answered.

"What is it?" he asked.

"It is my mother's little brooch. I can't think how I came to drop it. I should not mind so much only that it has my father's hair in it. She values it very much."

"I dare say we shall manage to find it. When did you miss it?" he asked.

"Just now--not two minutes ago. I know I had it at that stile, because I turned there to look at the new moon, and I had it in my hand then."

They searched in silence for some minutes, but the twilight had deepened quickly, and the dewy gra.s.s seemed all one mist under their feet.

"This is damp for you, ain't it?" he asked suddenly.

"Yes; that was how I came to drop it. I gathered up my dress, and it must have slipped then. Whatever shall I do?--we cannot see any longer."

"I dare say they have a lantern at the stables; I will go and ask."

"I will wait here," she answered.

"Don't do that. You go home; I'll come back and look till it's found."

"I cannot trouble you with that," said Meg. "Mother and I will come early to-morrow. No one pa.s.ses this lane before seven. We could see soon after six now."