squeeze
gold out of bailiff Jennings," added Solomon Snip; and Roger knew no
better way of silencing their tongues, than by profusely drenching them
in liquor. So he stood treat all round, and was forced to hobanob with
each; and when that was gone, he called for more to keep their curiosity
employed. Now, all this caused delay; and if Mary had been waiting for
the "stingo," she would doubtless have had reasonable cause for anger
and impatience: however, she, for her part, was so pleasantly occupied,
like Prince Arthur's Queen, in counting out the money, that, to say the
truth, both lord and liquor were entirely forgotten.

But another cause that lengthened out the minute, was the embarrassing
business of where to find the change. Bacchus's didn't chalk up trust,
where hard money was flung upon the counter; but all the accumulated
wealth of Bacchus's high-priest, Tom Swipey, and of the seven
worshippers now drinking in his honour, could not suffice to make up
enough of change: therefore, after two gallons left behind him in
libations as aforesaid, and two more bottled up for a drink-offering at
home, Roger was contented to be owed seven and fourpence; a debt never
likely to be liquidated. Much speculation this afforded to the gossips;
and when the treater's back was turned, they touched their foreheads,
for the man was clearly crazed, and they winked to each other with a
gesture of significance.

Grace, while musing on her new half-crown--it was strange how long she
looked at it--had heard with real amazement that uproarious huzzaing!
and, just as her father had levanted for the beer, glided down from her
closet, and received the wondrous tidings from her step-mother. She
heard in silence, if not in sadness: intuitive good sense proclaimed to
her that this sudden gush of wealth was a temptation, even if she felt
no secret fears on the score of--shall we call it superstition?--that
dream, this crock, that dark angel--and this so changed spirit of her
once religious father: what could she think? she meekly looked to Heaven
to avert all ill.

Mary Acton also was less elated and more alarmed than she cared to
confess: not that she, any more than Grace, knew or thought about lords
of manors, or physical troubles on the score of finding the crock: but
Mrs. Quarles's shawl, and sundry fearful fancies tinged with blood,
these worried her exceedingly, and made her look upon the gold with an
uneasy feeling, as if it were an un