A DOG OF FLANDERS. 83

said the housewife, feasting her eyes
on the piece of pine wood where it
was throned above the chimney with
a cuckoo clock in oak and a Calvary
in wax.
“Vea, I do not gainsay that,” said
the miller, draining his pewter flagon.
“Then, if what you think of were
ever to come to pass,” said the wife,
hesitatingly, “would it matter so
much? She will have enough for
both, and one cannot be better than
happy.”
“Vou are a woman, and therefore a
fool,” said the miller harshly, striking
his pipe on the table. “The lad is
naught but a beggar, and, with these
painter’s fancies, worse than a beggar.
Have a care that they are not to-