ll have his company in London.'

'Yes, and George's also. You will favour my poor boy's suit, Doll.'

'Your poor boy! nay, aunt, he is not worthy of pity, when he wins favour
from a peerless beauty like Mistress Forrester. But let be, it will not
break my heart if he gives you this fair country maid for your daughter,
who has not--so I have heard--so much as a brass farthing to call her own.'

Deeply chagrined, and with an uneasy suspicion that Dorothy might be right
in what she said, Mistress Ratcliffe left her niece to repose, saying to
herself, 'She has a tongue and a temper of her own, but we will soon tame
her when we get her here.'

CHAPTER IV

THE HAWK AND THE BIRD

'So doth the fox the lamb destroy we see,
The lion fierce, the beaver, roe or gray,
The hawk the fowl, the greater wrong the less,
The lofty proud the lowly poor oppress.'

JOHN DAVIES, 1613.

When George left Lucy at the door of Ford Place, she ran quickly through
the kitchen, where Mistress Forrester was resting on the settle after the
labours of the day.

Things had not gone well with the sick lambs, both were dead, and one of
the cart-horses had gone lame, and the eggs of the pea-hen were addled.

These circumstances were not likely to sweeten Mistress Forrester's temper,
and Lucy, who never bore malice, received a sharp answer in reply to her
inquiries as to the condition of the lambs.

'They are dead, and much you care, flaunting off with your lover instead of
turning your hand to help at home.'

'I could not have saved the lambs' lives,' Lucy said, 'but I am sorry they
are dead. I am sorry when any creature dies.'

'I dare say! Be off to bed, for I am locking up in a minute.'

'Where is Mary?' Lucy asked.

'A-bed. That boy has cut his little finger, or some such thing. Lor'! she
was like to swoon with terror when she saw the blood; the child himself was
not such a coward.'

Lucy hastened upstairs, and found Mary by the window in her favourite seat.
A book lay open on her knee, and, when Lucy came in, she held up her hand,
and, pointing to the bed, said,--

'Hush! he is asleep.'

'What has happened?' Lucy said. 'Is the boy hurt?'

'He cut his hand with an old knife, and the blood poured forth. Oh, Lucy,
if aught were to befall him, I scarce dare think of what would become of
me.'

Lucy thought of the strange encounter she had had with the man on the hill
path, and wondered whether it were