and thrust her handsome head up against her master's breast.

At that moment his daughter, Elizabeth, entered the room. She had an
open letter in her hand, and a look half-perplexed and half-pleased
upon her face. "Father," she said, "there is a letter from America;
Richard and Phyllis are coming; and I am afraid I shall not know how
to make them happy."

"Don't thee meet troubles half 'way; they arn't worth th' compliment.
What is ta feared for, dearie?"

"Their life is so different from ours--and, father, I do believe they
are Methodists."

The squire fastened the bit of gaudy feather to the trout "fly" he
was making, before he answered. "Surely to goodness, they'll nivver
be that! Sibbald Hallam, my uncle, was a varry thick Churchman when
he went to th' Carolinas--but he married a foreigner; she had plenty
o' brass, and acres o' land, but I never heard tell owt o' her religion.
They had four lads and lasses, but only one o' them lived to wed, and
that was my cousin, Matilda Hallam--t' mother o' these two youngsters
that are speaking o' coming here."

"Who did she marry, father?"

"Nay, I knowt o' th' man she married. He was a Colonel Fontaine. I
was thinking a deal more o' my own wedding than o' hers at that time.
It's like enough he were a Methodist. T' Carolinas hed rebelled against
English government, and it's nobbut reasonable to suppose t' English
Church would be as little to their liking. But they're Hallams,