eese?" asked she.

"I don't mind if I do. Chuff, he gave me a piece of his bread and bacon
at eight o'clock, so I ain't over hungry."

Mrs. Peckaby brought forth the loaf and the cheese, and Peckaby cut
himself some and ate it. Then he went upstairs. She stayed to put the
eatables away, raked out the fire, and followed. Peckaby was already in
bed. To get into it was not a very ceremonious proceeding with him, as
it is not with many others. There was no superfluous attire to throw
off, there was no hindering time with ablutions, there were no prayers.
Mrs. Peckaby favoured the same convenient mode, and she had just put the
candle out, when some noise struck upon her ear.

It came from the road outside. They slept back, the front room having
been the one let to Brother Jarrum; but in those small houses, at that
quiet hour noises in the road were heard as distinctly back as front.
There was a sound of talking, and then came a modest knock at Peckaby's
door.

Mrs. Peckaby went to the front room, opened the casement, and looked
out. To say that her heart leaped into her mouth would be a most
imperfect figure of speech to describe the state of feeling that rushed
over her. In the rainy obscurity of the night she could discern
something white drawn up to the door, and the figures of two men
standing by it. The only wonder was that she did not leap out; she might
have done it, had the window been large enough.

"Do Susan Peckaby live here?" inquired a gruff voice, that seemed as if
it were muffled.

"Oh, dear good gentlemen, yes!" she responded, in a tremble of
excitement. "Please what is it?"

"The white donkey's come to take her to New Jerusalem."

With a shrieking cry of joy that might have been heard all the way up
Clay Lane, Mrs. Peckaby tore back to her chamber.

"Peckaby," she cried, "Peckaby, the thing's come at last! The blessed
animal that's to bear me off. I always said it would."

Peckaby--probably from drowsiness--made no immediate response. Mrs.
Peckaby stooped down to the low bed, and shook him well by the shoulder.

"It's the white quadruple, Peckaby, come at last!"

Peckaby growled out something that she was in a state of too great
excitement to hear. She lighted the candle; she flung on some of the
things she had taken off; she ran back to the front before they were
fastened, lest the messengers, brute and human, should have departed,
and put her head out at the casement again, all in the utmost