Why, Sylvia, I niver saw it in yo' when yo' was a girl; yo're grown into a regular little vixen, theere wheere yo' stand!' Indeed she did look defiant, with the swift colour flushing her cheeks to crimson on its return, and the fire in her eyes not yet died away.

But at Molly's jesting words she sank back into her usual look and manner, only saying quietly,-- 'It's for noane to say whether I'm vixen or not, as doesn't know th' past things as is buried in my heart.

But I cannot hold them as my friends as go on talking on either my husband or me before my very face.

What he was, I know; and what I am, I reckon he knows.

And now I'll go hurry tea, for yo'll be needing it, Molly!' The last clause of this speech was meant to make peace; but Molly was in twenty minds as to whether she should accept the olive-branch or not.