Jane's own heart responded to what Nancy
had said; she thought again and again on
what he said. 'I have seen you sometimes;'
'I noticed you because you seemed so sisterly.'
'He must have a good heart,' thought Jane;
but then he can never think of a poor mill-
girl like me.'

The next morning they had to undergo
plenty of raillery from their companions.
We will pass that over. For several days,
as they passed to and fro, they saw nothing
of the young farmer. But one evening, as
they were again alone, having staid at the
same acquaintance's as before, the young
farmer popped his head over a stone wall,
and said, 'Good evening to you, young
women.' He was soon over the wall, and
walked on with them to the end of the
town. On the Sunday at the chapel Jane saw
Nancy's grave face fixed on some object
steadily, and, looking in the same direction,
was startled to see James Cheshire. Again
her heart beat pit-a-pat, and she thought
'Can he really be thinking of me?'

The moment chapel was over, James
Cheshire was gone, stopping to speak to no
one. Nancy again pressed the arm of Jane to
her side as they walked home, and said,
'I was not wrong.' Jane only replied by
returning her affectionate pressure.

Some days after, as Nancy Dunster was
coming out of a shop in the evening after
their return home from the mill, James
Cheshire suddenly put his hand on her
shoulder, and, on her turning, shook her
hand cordially, and said, 'Come along with
me a bit. I must have a little talk with you.'

Nancy consented without remark or
hesitation. James Cheshire walked on quickly
till they came near the fine old church which
strikes travellers as so superior to the place
in which it is located; when he slackened
his pace, and taking Nancy's hand, began in
a most friendly manner to tell her how much
he liked her and her sister. That, to make a
short matter of it, as was his way, he had
made up his mind that the woman of all
others in the world that would suit him for
a wife was her sister. 'But, before I said so
to her, I thought I would say so to you,
Nancy, for you are so sensible, I'm sure you
will say what is best for us all.'

Nancy manisfested no surprise, but said
calmly: 'You are a well-to-do farmer, Mr.
Cheshire. You have friends of property; my
sister, and—'

'Ay, and a mill-girl; I know all that. I've
thought it all over, and so far you are right
again, my little one. But just hear what
I've got to say. I'm no fool, though I say
it. I've an eye in my head and a head on my
shoulders, eh?'

Nancy smiled.

'Well now, it's not any mill-girl; mind
you, it's not any mill-girl; no, nor perhaps
another in the kingdom, that would do for
me. I don't think mill-girls are in the main
cut out for farmers' wives, any more than
farmers' wives are fit for mill-girls; but you
see, I've got a notion that your sister is not
only a very farrantly lass, but that she's one
that has particular good sense, though not so
deep as you, Nancy, neither. Well, I've a
notion she can turn her hand to anything,
and that she's a heart to do it, when it's a
duty. Isn't that so, eh? And if it is so,
then Jane Dunster's the lass for me; that is,
if it's quite agreeable.'

Nancy pressed James Cheshire's hand, and
said, 'You are very kind.'

'Not a bit of it,' said James.

'Well,' continued Nancy; 'but I would
have you to consider what your friends will
say; and whether you will not be made
unhappy by them.'

'Why, as to that,' said James Cheshire,
interrupting her, 'mark me, Miss Dunster.
I don't ask my friends for anything. I can
farm my own farm; buy my own cattle;
drive my spring-cart, without any advice or
assistance of theirs; and therefore I don't
think I shall ask their advice in the matter of
a wife, eh? No, no, on that score I'm made
up. My name's Independent, and, at a word,
the only living thing I mean to ask advice of
is yourself. If you, Miss Dunster, approve
of the match, it's settled, as far I'm
concerned.'

'Then so far,' said Nancy, 'as you and my
sister are concerned, without reference to
worldly circumstances—I approve it with all
my heart. I believe you to be as good and
honest as I know my sister to be. Oh! Mr.
Cheshire! she is one of ten thousand.'

'Well, I was sure of it;' said the young
farmer; 'and so now you must tell your sister
all about it; and if all's right, chalk me a
white chalk inside of my gate as you go past
i' th' morning, and to-morrow evening I'll
come up and see you.'

Here the two parted with a cordial shake
of the hand. The novel signal of an accepted
love was duly discovered by James Cheshire
on his gate-post, when he issued forth at
daybreak, and that evening he was sitting at tea
with Jane and Nancy in the little cottage,
having brought in his cart a basket of eggs,
apples, fresh butter, and a pile of the richest
pikelets (crumpets), country pikelets, very
different to town-made ones, for tea.

We need not follow out the courtship of
James Cheshire and Jane Dunster. It was
cordial and happy. James insisted that both
the sisters should give immediate notice to
quit the mill-work, to spare themselves the
cold and severe walks which the winter now
occasioned them. The sisters had improved
their education in their evenings. They were
far better read and informed than most
farmer's daughters. They had been, since
they came to Tideswell, teachers in the Sunday-
school. There was comparatively little to be
learned in a farm-house for the wife in winter,
and James Cheshire therefore proposed to the