row; that he has heard of you often, and knows your character very well, and that he has got a very handsome present for us! What can it be, I wonder?"
"Is he rich, my soul’s adored?" says I.
"He is a bachelor with a fine trade, and nobody to leave his money to."
"His present can’t be less than a thousand pounds," says I.
"Or, perhaps, a silver tea-set, and some corner dishes," says she.
But we could not agree to this, it was too little—too mean for a man of her uncle’s wealth: and we both determined it must be the thousand pounds.
"Dear, good uncle! he's to be here by coach," says Magdalen. "Let us ask a little party to meet him." And so we did, and so they came. My father and mother, old Crutty in his best wig, and the parson who was to marry us next day. The coach was to come in at six. And there was the tea-table, and there was the punch-bowl, and every body ready and smiling to receive our dear uncle from London.
