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“My black dress!” said Susie. “’Tis too good for travellin’, mother; this here blue be quite tidy.”

“Do what I tell ’ee,” said Mrs. Frizzell, sternly, looking up from the parcel which she was unfastening, and fixing her eyes for the first time on the girl’s pale, agitated face.

“Mother, why have you got your blacks on?” cried Susan in sudden alarm. “And, oh! what’s that in your hand?”

“’Tis a bonnet, my dear, and you be to put it on. Now, Susan, I haven’t said one cross word to ’ee, and I bain’t a-goin’ to say a cross word to ’ee; and Father and me have a-made up our minds to stand by ’ee, and we’ll not let nobody go a-worrettin’ of ’ee, or a-castin’ up at ’ee about what’s past. If ye did deceive we, ye’ve a-been punished enough for’t.”

“Oh, dear! an’ that’s true,” wailed Susan; and she threw herself into her mother’s arms, her big, babyish, blue eyes drowned in tears; her poor head, with its crown of golden hair, hidden on the bosom where it had so often lain in innocent infancy. “I was a wicked girl to deceive ’ee and dear Father, as was always so good to me. But he—Jim—said I wasn’t to tell no one, or he’d be gettin’ into trouble, as we wasn’t on the strength!”