'Why, you see, Ben, I've had a deal to do!' she said in reply, looking busily after the safe removal into the house of all the packages and baskets: 'eight, nine, ten - where's eleven? 0h! my basket's eleven! It's all right. Put the mule up, Harry, and if he coughs again give him a warm mash to-night. Eight, nine, ten. Why, where's eleven? 0h! forgot, it really is all right. How's the kidren, Ben?'

'Hearty, Clemmy, hearty.'

'Bless their precious faces!' exclaimed Mrs. Britain, unbonneting her own round countenance (for she and her husband were by this time in the bar), and smoothing her hair with her open hands. 'Give us a kiss, very old man!'

Mr. Britain promptly complied.