vened the dulness of the
journey by dwelling on the _menus_ he preferred for breakfast, dinner,
and supper respectively. He elicited information about Dave, and was
anxious to be informed which would lick. He put the question in this
ungarnished form, not supplying detailed conditions. When told that Dave
would, certainly, being nearly two years older, he threw doubt on the
good faith of his informant.

But the journey came to an end, and though Widow Thrale had locked up
the Cottage when she came away yesterday, she had left the key with
Elizabeth-next-door--whoever she was; it does not matter--asking her to
look in about eleven and light a bit of fire against her, Widow
Thrale's, return. So next-door was applied to for the key, and the bit
of fire--a very large bit of a small fire, or a small bit of a very
large one--was found blazing on the hearth, and the cloth laid for
dinner and everything.

According to Elizabeth-next-door, absolutely nothing had happened since
Mrs. Marrable went away yesterday. Routine does not happen; it flows in
a steady current which Event, the fidget, may interrupt for a while, but
seldom dams outright. Elizabeth's memory, however, admitted on
reconsideration that Toft the glazier had come to see for a job, and
that she had sought for broken windows in Strides Cottage and found
none. Toft was quite willing to mend any pane on his own responsibility,
neither appealing to the County Court to obtain payment, nor smashing
the pane in default of a cash settlement; a practice congenial to his
gipsy blood, although he was the loser by the price of the glass. Toft
had greatly desired to repair the glass front of the little case or
cabinet on the mantelshelf, but Elizabeth had not dared to sanction
interference with an heirloom. That was quite right, said Widow Thrale.
What would mother have said if any harm had been done to her model?
Besides, it did not matter! Because Toft would look in again to-day or
to-morrow, when he had finished on the conservatories at the Vicarage.

None of this conversation reached old Maisie's ears at the time; only as
facts referred to afterwards. As soon as the key was produced by
Elizabeth-next-door, the old lady, treated as an invalid in the face of
her own remonstrance, was inducted through the big kitchen or
sitting-room, which she was sorry not to stop in, to a bedroom beyond,
and made to lie down and rest and drink fresh milk. When she got up to
join Widow Thra