When they were all ready for baking, Bateson says to me, 'Kezia,' he says, 'them pies is a regular picture--all so smooth and even-like, you can't tell which from t'other.' 'Bateson,' said I, 'I've done my best with them; and if only the Lord will be with them in the oven, they'll be the best batch of pies this side Jordan.'" "And so they are," said Elisabeth; "they are perfectly lovely." "I'm glad you fancy them, my love; take some more, deary, it'll do you good." "No, thanks; I'd rather have a wig now." And Elisabeth helped herself to one of the three-cornered cakes, called "wigs," which are peculiar to Mershire.
"You always are fortunate in your pigs," Mrs.Hankey remarked; "such fine hams and such beautiful roaded bacon I never see anywhere equal to yours.

It'll be a sad day for you, Mrs.Bateson, when swine fever comes into the district.

I know no one as'll feel it more." "Now you must tell us all about your niece's wedding, Mrs.Hankey," Mrs.
Bateson said--"her that was married last week.

My word alive, but your sister is wonderful fortunate in settling her daughters! That's what I call a well-brought-up family, and no mistake.

Five daughters, and each one found peace and a pious husband before she was five-and-twenty." "The one before last married a Churchman," said Mrs.Hankey apologetically, as if the union thus referred to were somewhat morganatic in its character, and therefore no subject for pride or congratulation.
"Well, to be sure! Still, he may make her a good husband." "He may or he may not; you never can tell.