“Why, thee’st let thy own whip fly i’ thy face,” said her husband, who had now joined in the laugh of the young ones.

“It’s all very fine to look on and grin,” rejoined Mrs. Poyser; “but there’s times when the crockery seems alive an’ flies out o’ your hand like a bird.  It’s like the glass, sometimes, ’ull crack as it stands.  What is to be broke will be broke, for I never dropped a thing i’ my life for want o’ holding it, else I should never ha’ kept the crockery all these ’ears as I bought at my own wedding.  And Hetty, are you mad?  Whativer do you mean by coming down i’ that way, and making one think as there’s a ghost a-walking i’ th’ house?”

A new outbreak of laughter, while Mrs. Poyser was speaking, was caused, less by her sudden conversion to a fatalistic view of jug-breaking than by that strange appearance of Hetty, which had startled her aunt.  The little minx had found a black gown of her aunt’s, and pinned it close round her neck to look like Dinah’s, had made her hair as flat as she could, and had tied on one of Dinah’s high-crowned borderless net caps.  The thought of Dinah’s pale grave face and mild grey eyes, which the sight of the gown and cap brought with it, made it a laughable surprise enough to see them replaced by Hetty’s round rosy cheeks and coquettish dark eyes.  The boys got off their chairs and jumped round her, clapping their hands, and even Alick gave a low ventral laugh as he looked up from his beans.  Under cover of the noise, Mrs. Poyser went into the back kitchen to send Nancy into the cellar with the great pewter measure, which had some chance of being free from bewitchment.

“Why, Hetty, lass, are ye turned Methodist?” said Mr. Poyser, with that comfortable slow enjoyment of a laugh which one only sees in stout people.  “You must pull your face a deal longer before you’ll do for one; mustna she, Adam?  How come you put them things on, eh?”

“Adam said he liked Dinah’s cap and gown better nor my clothes,” said Hetty, sitting down demurely.  “He says folks looks better in ugly clothes.”

“Nay, nay,” said Adam, looking at her admiringly; “I only said they seemed to suit Dinah.  But if I’d said you’d look pretty in ’em, I should ha’ said nothing but what was true.”

“Why, thee thought’st Hetty war a ghost, didstna?” said Mr. Poyser to his wife, who now came back and took her seat again.  “Thee look’dst as scared as scared.”

“It little sinnifies how I looked,” said Mrs. Poyser; “looks ’ull mend no jugs, nor laughing neither, as I see.  Mr. Bede, I’m sorry you’ve to wait so long for your ale, but it’s coming in a minute.  Make yourself at home wi’ th’ cold potatoes:  I know you like ’em.  Tommy, I’ll send you to bed this minute, if you don’t give over laughing.  What is there to laugh at, I should like to know?  I’d sooner cry nor laugh at the sight o’ that poor thing’s cap; and there’s them as ’ud be better if they could make theirselves