or, there fell an abrupt calm in the
kitchen. The tongues were checked, pulled up as with bit and bridle.
"Was it--was it--Robert?" He often--almost always--entered by the
kitchen way on his return from market. No; it was only Joe Scott, who,
having hemmed significantly thrice--every hem being meant as a lofty
rebuke to the squabbling womankind--said, "Now, I thowt I heerd a
crack?"

None answered.

"And," he continued pragmatically, "as t' maister's comed, and as he'll
enter through this hoyle, I _con_sidered it desirable to step in and let
ye know. A household o' women is nivver fit to be comed on wi'out
warning. Here he is.--Walk forrard, sir. They war playing up queerly,
but I think I've quietened 'em."

Another person, it was now audible, entered. Joe Scott proceeded with
his rebukes.

"What d'ye mean by being all i' darkness? Sarah, thou quean, canst t'
not light a candle? It war sundown an hour syne. He'll brak his shins
agean some o' yer pots, and tables, and stuff.--Tak tent o' this
baking-bowl, sir; they've set it i' yer way, fair as if they did it i'
malice."

To Joe's observations succeeded a confused sort of pause, which
Caroline, though she was listening with both her ears, could not
understand. It was very brief. A cry broke it--a sound of surprise,
followed by the sound of a kiss; ejaculations, but half articulate,
succeeded.

"Mon Dieu! mon Dieu! Est-ce que je m'y attendais?" were the words
chiefly to be distinguished.

"Et tu te portes toujours bien, bonne soeur?" inquired another
voice--Robert's, certainly.

Caroline was puzzled. Obeying an impulse the wisdom of which she had not
time to question, she escaped from the little parlour, by way of leaving
the coast clear, and running upstairs took up a position at the head of
the banisters, whence she could make further observations ere presenting
herself. It was considerably past sunset now; dusk filled the passage,
yet not such deep dusk but that she could presently see Robert and
Hortense traverse it.

"Caroline! Caroline!" called Hortense, a moment afterwards, "venez voir
mon frere!"

"Strange," commented Miss Helstone, "passing strange! What does this
unwonted excitement about such an every-day occurrence as a return from
market portend? She has not lost her senses, has she? Surely the burnt
treacle has not crazed her?"

She descended in a subdued flutter. Yet more was she fluttered when
Hortense seized her hand at the parlour door,