r she was a bright child, who
learned easily, and could repeat the Creed and the Ten Commandments as
glibly as possible when she was only six years old. Unhappily, lessons
were apt to run out of Jenny's head as fast as they ran in, except when
frequently demanded; but the Creed and the Commandments had to stay
there, for every Saturday night she was called on to repeat them to her
Grandmother, and every Sunday afternoon she had to say them at the
catechising in church. In Jenny's head, therefore, they remained; but
down to Jenny's heart they never penetrated.

It was only now that Mrs Jane was setting up a maid for herself.
Hitherto she had been served by her mother's woman; but now she was
going on a visit to some relatives near Bristol, and it was thought
proper that she should have a woman of her own. And when the question
was asked where the maid should be sought, Mrs Jane had said at
once--"Oh, let me have little Jenny Lavender!"

Farmer Lavender was not quite so ready to let Jenny go as Mrs Jane was
to ask it. Bristol seemed to him a long way off, and, being a town,
most likely a wicked place. Those were days in which people made their
wills before they took a journey of a hundred miles; and no wonder, when
the roads were so bad that men had frequently to be hired to walk beside
a gentleman's carriage, and give it a push to either side, when it
showed an inclination to topple over; or oxen sometimes were fetched, to
pull the coach out of a deep quagmire of mud, from which only one half
of it was visible. So Farmer Lavender shook his head, and said "he
didn't know, no, he didn't, whether he'd let his little maid go." But
Mrs Jane was determined--and so was Jenny; and between them they
conquered the farmer, though his old mother was on the prudent side.
This was Friday, and Mrs Jane was to leave home on Tuesday; and on
Saturday afternoon, Robert Featherstone, Colonel Lane's valet, whom
Jenny thought such a gentleman, was to come for her and her luggage.

If a gentleman be a man who never does any useful thing that he can
help, then Mr Robin Featherstone was a perfect gentleman--much more so
than his master, who was ready to put his hand to any work that wanted
doing. Mr Featherstone thought far more of his elegant white hands
than the Colonel did of his, and oiled his chestnut locks at least three
times as often. He liked the Colonel's service, because he had very
little to do, and there were plenty of pe