ach to
carry down Mother home?"

"Nay, it's none hers, it's my Lady's," said Charity, "and nobry else's;
and if she's a mind to bid me chop it up for firewood, I can, if Mestur
'Ans 'll help me. We can eat th' horses too, if she likes; but they mun
be put in salt, for we's ne'er get through 'em else. There's six on
'em. Shall I tell Rachel to get th' brine ready?"

"Charity, what have you been doing?" said Hans, laughing.

"I've done nought, Mestur 'Ans, nobut carry a letter where it belonged,
and serve 'Zekiel his four-hours."

They began to see light dawning on the mystery.

"A letter to whom, Charity? and who writ it?"

"To Mestur Marshall: and Mrs Joyce Morrell writ it--leastwise her man
did, at her bidding."

"What said it?"

"I didn't read it, Sir," responded Charity, demurely.

"Come, I reckon you know what was in it," said Mr Lewthwaite. "Out
with it, Charity."

"Come forward into the room, Charity, and tell your tale like a man,"
said Temperance.

"I amn't a man, Mrs Temperance," answered Charity, doing as she was
bid: "but I'll tell it like a woman. Well, when I were with Mrs Joyce,
afore we came hither, hoo gave me a letter,--let's see! nay, it were two
letters, one lapped of a green paper, and one of a white. And hoo said,
as soon as yo' geet [got] here, I were to ask my way to Shoe Lane, just
outside o' th' City gate, and gi'e th' letter i' th' white paper to
Mestur Marshall. And th' green un I were to keep safe by me, till it
came--if it did come--that my Lady lacked a coach either to journey home
or to Minster Lovel, and when I heard that, I were to carry it to Mestur
Marshall too. So I did as I were bid. What were i' th' letters I
cannot tell you, but Mestur Marshall come to see you as soon as he geet
th' white un, and when he geet th' green un come 'Zekiel wi' th' coach
and th' tits. Mrs Joyce, hoo said hoo were feared nobry'd tell her if
a coach were wanted, and that were why she gave me th' letter. So now
you know as much as I know: and I hope you're weel pleased wi' it: and
if you please, what am I to say to 'Zekiel?"

"Dear Aunt Joyce!" said Edith under her breath.

"Make Ezekiel comfortable, Charity," said Lady Louvaine, as she drew off
her glasses and wiped them: "and on Monday we will talk over the matter
and come to some decision thereupon."

The decision unanimously come to on the Monday was that Hans should ride
down to Oxford and see Aubrey before anything else wa