The girl got up from her chair and turned herself round. This gesture was evidently adored by Mrs. Solent, for she stretched out her arms and caught her by the waist and pulled her down upon her knee.

“I shall spoil your lovely dress,” Gerda cried nervously.

“You’re light as a feather, you sweet thing! You’re soft as swan’s-down.”

“She weren’t that light, ma’am, when she made herself stiff as pikestaff, on the day us bundled she down church-aisle for christening,” said Mrs. Torp. “But she were light enough, God-sakes, when she did play carry-me-over wi’ the lads!”

All this while, Wolf was pondering in his soul how it was that Nature had placed in the minds of all mothers, refined or unrefined, so large a measure of the heart of a procuress.