with a hearty--"Good-night, Mrs Temperance! Good-night, Mestur
Robin!"

"Truly, I think with you," said Mr Lewthwaite, when she was gone: "but
there is time to consider the matter. Let us decide nothing in haste."

The next morning, for the first time for many weeks, Charity asked for a
holiday. It was granted her, and she was out till twelve o'clock, when
she came home with a very satisfied face.

Ways and means were discussed that day, but to little practical purpose.
Of course Aubrey must be informed of the good fortune which had fallen
to him: and after some consideration, it was settled that if Hans could
make arrangements with Mr Leigh, he should be the messenger in this
direction, setting forth when Sunday was over. People did not rush off
by the next train in those days, and scald their tongues with hot coffee
in order to be in time.

The Saturday evening came, and with it the calm quiet which most Puritan
families loved to have on the eve of the Lord's Day. While it was not
necessary, it was nevertheless deemed becoming to lay aside secular
occupations, and to let worldly cares rest. There was therefore some
astonishment in the parlour when a sudden rap came on the door, and
Charity's face and cap made their appearance.

"If you please, Madam, when'll you be wanting your coach, think you?"

"My coach, Charity!" said Lady Louvaine in amazement.

Everybody was staring at Charity.

"It's ready, Madam," said that damsel with much placidity. "He's only
got to put the horses to, hasn't 'Zekiel, and they're at Tomkins' stable
yon, by th' Tilt Yard--Spring Gardens, I reckon they call it."

"Charity, lass, are you in your right senses, think you?" demanded
Temperance.

"Well, Mrs Temperance, I reckon you'll be best judge o' that," said
Charity coolly. "Seems to me I am: but that scarce makes sure, I
count."

"But, Charity!--what Ezekiel?"

"'Zekiel Cavell, Mrs Edith. He's i' th' kitchen: you can see him if
you've a mind."

"Ezekiel Cavell! Aunt Joyce's coachman! Where on earth has he come
from?"

"Well, I rather think it was somewhere on earth," answered the calm
Charity, "and I expect it was somewhere i' Oxfordshire. Howbeit, here
he is, and so's th' coach, and so's th' horses: and he says to me,
`Charity,' says he, `will you ask my Lady when she'll be wanting th'
coach?' So I come."

Everybody looked at everybody else.

"Is it possible?" cried Edith. "Has dear Aunt Joyce sent her co