“Tut, tut, child. If nothing worse than Ale happens to us, we are well off.”

“I should think so myself, aunt, I am sure,” said I.

“Well, then, why don’t you think so?” said my aunt.

“Because you and I are very different people,” I returned.

“Stuff and nonsense, Trot!” replied my aunt.

My aunt went on with a quiet enjoyment, in which there was very little affectation, if any; drinking the warm ale with a teaspoon, and soaking her strips of toast in it.

“Trot,” said she, “I don’t care for strange faces in general, but I rather like that Barkis of yours, do you know!”