ere. Of course there is a good deal to do, and I should not
be surprised if she were to think after a bit that your house in
Bungay was more comfortable than Mrs Pipkin's kitchen in London.'

'My little back parlour;--eh, squoire! And I've got a four-poster, most
as big as any in Bungay.'

'I am sure you have everything comfortable for her, and she knows it
herself. Let her think about all that,--and do you go and tell her again
in a month's time. She'll be more willing to settle matters then than
she is now.'

'But the Baro-nite!'

'Mrs Pipkin will allow nothing of that.'

'Girls is so 'cute. Ruby is awful 'cute. It makes me feel as though I
had two hun'erdweight o' meal on my stomach, lying awake o' nights and
thinking as how he is, may be,--pulling of her about! If I thought that
she'd let him--; oh! I'd swing for it, Muster Carbury. They'd have to
make an eend o' me at Bury, if it was that way. They would then.'

Roger assured him again and again that he believed Ruby to be a good
girl, and promised that further steps should be taken to induce Mrs
Pipkin to keep a close watch upon her niece. John Crumb made no
promise that he would abstain from his journey to London after
Saxmundham fair; but left the squire with a conviction that his
purpose of doing so was shaken. He was still however resolved to send
Mrs Pipkin the price of a new blue cloak, and declared his purpose of
getting Mixet to write the letter and enclose the money order. John
Crumb had no delicacy as to declaring his own deficiency in literary
acquirements. He was able to make out a bill for meal or pollards, but
did little beyond that in the way of writing letters.

This happened on a Saturday morning, and on that afternoon Roger
Carbury rode over to Lowestoft, to a meeting there on church matters
at which his friend the bishop presided. After the meeting was over he
dined at the inn with half a dozen clergymen and two or three
neighbouring gentlemen, and then walked down by himself on to the long
strand which has made Lowestoft what it is. It was now just the end
of June, and the weather was delightful;--but people were not as yet
flocking to the sea-shore. Every shopkeeper in every little town
through the country now follows the fashion set by Parliament and
abstains from his annual holiday till August or September. The place
therefore was by no means full. Here and there a few of the
townspeople, who at a bathing place are generally indiffer