t have been in it all. He and Thomas, the
clerk, they were confident, must have gone last night to join Mr. Moore
and the soldiers. Mr. Malone, too, had not been heard of at his lodgings
since yesterday afternoon; and Joe Scott's wife and family were in the
greatest distress, wondering what had become of their head.

Scarcely was this information imparted when a knock at the kitchen door
announced the Fieldhead errand-boy, arrived in hot haste, bearing a
billet from Mrs. Pryor. It was hurriedly written, and urged Miss Keeldar
to return directly, as the neighbourhood and the house seemed likely to
be all in confusion, and orders would have to be given which the
mistress of the hall alone could regulate. In a postscript it was
entreated that Miss Helstone might not be left alone at the rectory. She
had better, it was suggested, accompany Miss Keeldar.

"There are not two opinions on that head," said Shirley, as she tied on
her own bonnet, and then ran to fetch Caroline's.

"But what will Fanny and Eliza do? And if my uncle returns?"

"Your uncle will not return yet; he has other fish to fry. He will be
galloping backwards and forwards from Briarfield to Stilbro' all day,
rousing the magistrates in the court-house and the officers at the
barracks; and Fanny and Eliza can have in Joe Scott's and the clerk's
wives to bear them company. Besides, of course, there is no real danger
to be apprehended now. Weeks will elapse before the rioters can again
rally, or plan any other attempt; and I am much mistaken if Moore and
Mr. Helstone will not take advantage of last night's outbreak to quell
them altogether. They will frighten the authorities of Stilbro' into
energetic measures. I only hope they will not be too severe--not pursue
the discomfited too relentlessly."

"Robert will not be cruel. We saw that last night," said Caroline.

"But he will be hard," retorted Shirley; "and so will your uncle."

As they hurried along the meadow and plantation path to Fieldhead, they
saw the distant highway already alive with an unwonted flow of
equestrians and pedestrians, tending in the direction of the usually
solitary Hollow. On reaching the hall, they found the backyard gates
open, and the court and kitchen seemed crowded with excited
milk-fetchers--men, women, and children--whom Mrs. Gill, the
housekeeper, appeared vainly persuading to take their milk-cans and
depart. (It _is_, or _was_, by-the-bye, the custom in the north of
Englan