Children of the Dear Cotswolds

a swarm of bees settled all over both infant and nurse. Fortunately the nurse was a Cotswold woman, and knew full well that if a swarm of bees settles upon an infant during the first

the hot sunshine of that September afternoon, the nurse hardly daring to breathe, lest b

hite bundle in the anxious nurse's arms and passed

e weather-stains of years, came forth from her cottage as the nurse tottered to meet her, holding out the baby and

good 'usban' for sure. Bless 'er! Them bees knows what they be about, an' 'tis plain they knew as you was Cotsal barn an' bred

eded to sing the size and the exceeding beauty of the new baby, who seemingly preferred

ator, and, as that worthy woman put it, "You didn't know where you was" before t

oung ladies in the neighbourhood, for the village is large and cheery, with many nice places around; but the other young ladies were in no way remarkable. No swarm of bees had settled on any of them in in

for our young lady was going to be married, and Mrs.

th to Mrs. Birkin's village and the other villages round about, and you may be sure that Mrs. Birkin knew all about every baby that arrived within a ten-mile radius. She is an authority upon babies. She is one of those women who is everybody's mother because she has no living children of her own. In the churchyard, under the green mound that now marks the humble resting-place of Mr. Birkin, there were once two

ittle boys, even bad little boys, whose grubby hands were against every other man, woman, or child in the

ars. Four years before that, again, she had indulged in a widow's bonnet, in which, on Sundays, she did honour to the memory of the departed Birkin; until the crape grew green wi

e those who wish that the wearing of these uniforms extended to Sundays,-the villagers, in the week, are so much more in harmony with the beautiful, grey, old houses,-but

three or four eager damsels and matrons bustle out of their cottages, are packed in as inside passengers, and away goes the coach to distant "Ziren," where coun

shop in the market-place where there were displayed hats of the most bewitching beauty, and fabrics so delicate that Mrs. Birkin fairly caught her breath at the mere idea of any one dari

raniums and elegant excrescences of watered ribbon of a delicate mauve shade-a truly bridal bonnet, fitted to grace even the marriage of our young lady herself. But its cost was twelve and sixpence, a truly prohibitive price for Mrs. Birkin-"A'most a month's keep," she sadly whispered to herself. She went away from that window. She walked r

't afford no more nor ten shillin's," she said to a neighbour with whom she discussed th

e shop, and in trembling tones demanded of the young lady behind the counter whether there was any chance of the bonnet-for it still graced the window-"bein' a b

he even lifted the bonnet from its stand in the win

and she was fain to confess that her handsome, sunburnt face was assuredly "

ady. "It's a very attractive article; but if it is still here, we might be able to m

your way. But if it be still yer, when I do come back, then, if I've got the money, I'll 'ave she. The ribbons is get

ould stand. Squoire let her live in her cottage rent free, for the departed Birkin had been one of his labourers; moreover, his daughter was very fond of Mrs. Birkin, and that went a long way with Squoire. He also had obtained for her of late, from certain mysterious powers called "Guardians," an allowance of three and sixpence a week, so that with what she could earn

er and over again; by no arithmetical process could they be persuaded to amount to more than eleven shillings and fivepence three farthings. Squoire sent round

et. It was still there, and on it was a card bearing the reassu

t ten years old. His free hand was thrust into one of his tearful eyes, and sobs shook his small frame. It was plain that Ernie Comley was in grievous trouble. Mrs. Comley, too, looked flushed and miserable. She was an unhealthy-looking, undersized little woman whose somewhat dreary days were passed in futile attempts to overtake her multifarious duties. Mrs. Comley was no manager

brought her for nothing,-"I 'ad so much to do, an' Ernie 'e done nothing but w'ine and cry somethin' dreadful all the time because I told 'im plain 'e can't go to no weddin's, nor no treats after, neither. Do you know what that boy've bin an' done? 'E've gone an' tore the seat clean out of 'is Sunday t

teful shake, which caused that unhappy urc

this, as our young lady 'ad far sooner 'e come in 'is corderoys than stopped away. She said most partic'lar as she 'oped heverb

e about shockin'. They wasn't new when 'e got 'em, an' 'e be that rubsome they've all fell to pieces.

other was right; for, indeed, his appearance was the reverse of festal. Although his corduroy trousers had so far withstood his rubsome t

ith horder,' that's their style. An' it's no manner of use me a-goin' to any of the big tailors: they wouldn't so much as lo

ho burst forth into a loud howl, and was dragged dow

purse. Slowly she crossed the road, and once more stood staring at the bonnet. How beautiful it was! How brilliant its geraniums, how crisp and dainty

into the shop. She stood like a statue for nearly five minutes, still staring at the bonnet; but she no longer saw it. What she saw was

red. Then she turned from the window that held her heart's desire, and

omily into the window of t

style eight and eleven three,' as 'll just do for Ernie, allowin' for growth. I'll buy

heerful as he had been tearful a few minutes before, emer

shop, "or else Squoire 'll be back before I be ready. Good afternoon to

se as she'll ever pay I, she's but a slack piece; but I couldn't abear as

y permissible, but suitable, for an elderly cottager even at a wedding, to wear a bla

sibility, owing to the expense of Ernie Comley's wedding garment, she set herself forthwith

old bonnet, washed it, dried it in the oven with the door well ajar, lest the precious thing should "scarch." When dry, she enamelled it cream, inside and out, and when the enamel in its turn had dried, she trimmed the rejuvenated bonnet with the n

agers and their excitement over the morrow. This maid was "own niece" to Mrs. Birkin, but she was not proud of the relationship. She w

man, that's what I call her. She'd saved up quite a nice bit of money, and was going to have a new bonnet out of a shop in the town they sets such store by, though 'tisn't much more than a village to them as have travelled, is it, Miss? Well, what does she go and do but lend the money

a ring in her voice that warned that sharp girl she had in some way offended. "I wish there were more people like her

as a sound of tears in her young lady's voice. She wondered at t

e other side was kept for the villagers, first come, first served, with no distinctions whatsoever. Mrs. Comley was there, with Ernie, all new suit and hair

Mrs. Birkin, tearful and exultant, stood in her place devouring the pretty spectacle with eager, kind old eyes. As the bride reached Mrs. Birkin's pew she stopped, slipped her hand from the bridegroom's arm, and tur

alike thronged into the sunshine. Mrs. Birkin, her bonnet much awry, owing to the heavy bridal bouquet, straye

asked Mrs. Comley, envious

mphantly, "if her didn't go and think 't was a bran' new bonnet