you back to the Court, I will profit by this occasion and bid you farewell for the present."
This proposal was received with evident satisfaction on their part, for there was clearly no further thought of parting; only Moll, alarmed for the proprieties, did beg her lover to lift her on her horse instantly. Nevertheless, when she was in her saddle, they must linger yet, he to. kiss her hands, and she to bend down and yield her cheek to his lips, though the sound of the coming waggon was close at hand.
Scarcely less delighted than they with this surprising strange turn of events, I left 'em there with bright, smiling faces, and journeyed on to London, and there taking a pair of oars at the Bridge to Greenwich, all eagerness to give these joyful tidings to my old friend, Jack Dawson. I found him in his workroom, before a lathe, and sprinkled from head to toe with chips, mighty proud of a bed-post he was a-turning. And it did my heart good to see him looking stout and hearty, profitably occupied in this business, instead of soaking in an alehouse (as I feared at one time he would) to dull his care; but he was ever a stout, brave fellow, who would rather fight than give in any day. A better man never lived, nor a more honest—circumstances permitting.
His joy at seeing me was past everything; but his first thought after our hearty greeting was of his daughter.
"My Moll," says he, "my dear girl; you han't brought her to add to my joy? She's not slinking behind a door to fright me with delight, hey?"
"No," says I; "but I've brought you great news of her."
"And good, I'll swear, Kit, for there's not a sad line in your face. Stay, comrade, wait till I've shook these chips off and we are seated in my parlour, for I do love to have a
