d consisted of those concealed Jesuits whom Rome had
sent over for the purpose of stirring up dissension, some of whom
professed to be clergy of the Church, and some Nonconformists.

The gentleman just now officiating at Darlaston belonged to the second
class. His sermon was a violent diatribe against kings in general, and
"Charles Stuart" in particular, to which the few Royalists in his
congregation had to listen with what patience they might.

Jenny Lavender did not carry away a word of it. Her head was full of
the honour and glory of driving in the Bentley Hall coach (wherein she
occupied the lowest seat by the door), and of sitting in the Bentley
Hall pew.

She only hoped that Ruth Merston and Dolly Campion, and all the other
girls of her acquaintance, were there to see her.

They drove back in the same order. Then came dinner.

As Jenny took her seat at the table she perceived that a stranger was
present, who sat on the right hand of Mrs Lane, and to whom so much
deference was paid that she guessed he must be somebody of note. He was
dressed in a suit of black plush, slashed with yellow satin, and a black
beaver hat; for gentlemen then always wore their hats at dinner. His
manners charmed Jenny exceedingly. Whenever he spoke to either of the
ladies, he always lifted his plumed hat for a moment. Even her model
gentleman, Robin Featherstone, had never treated her with that courtesy.

Jenny was still further enchanted when she heard Mrs Lane say to him,
"My Lord."

So interested and excited was she that she actually presumed to ask
Millicent, in a whisper, who the stranger was. Millicent only
demolished her by a look. The steward, on the other side of Jenny, was
more accommodating.

"That is my Lord Wilmot," he said; "an old friend of the Colonel."

Jenny would have liked to ask a dozen questions, but she did not dare.
She already expected a scolding from Millicent, and received it before
an hour was over.

"How dare you, Jane Lavender," demanded Jenny's superior officer, "let
your voice be heard at the Colonel's table?"

"If you please, Mrs Millicent," answered Jenny, who was rather
frightened, "I think only Mr Wright heard it."

"You think! Pray, what business have you to think? Mrs Jane does not
pay you for thinking, I'm sure."

Jenny was too much cowed to say what she thought--that Mrs Jane did not
pay her extra to hold her tongue. She only ventured on a timid
suggestion that "they talk