the will of his mistresses, he expressed contrition and promised obedience.

But as Mr. Crickett had very little reverence for things earthly or heavenly, it is to be feared that he chuckled within himself on the evening of our story, when presently a second and louder peal gave indication that the patience of the untimely visitor, whoever he might be, was exhausted. And even when the devotions of the evening were finished he evinced no great alacrity in retiring from his mistresses' presence. As, however, he had no excuse for remaining after his satellites, "the women creeters," had withdrawn, he deliberately proceeded to the courtyard already mentioned, bearing in his hand the ponderous key of the assailed gate. Presently he returned to the ladies.

"Master Harry."

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Henry Rivers! William, do you mean that it is he who rang the gate bell?" said Miss Fleming, with a little start of surprise. "It might have been him, ma'am; or, otherwise, it mightn't. There's a man with him; and he might have pulled the bell," said Mr. Crickett, slowly.

"You are very ridiculous, William," said Miss Prissy. "Is it our nephew who is come so late?"

"Even me in my own proper person, dear aunt Prissy," said Harry Rivers himself, who had closely followed Mr. Crickett into his aunt's presence, and was immediately embraced with kindly warmth by both ladies. "I am come late, indeed; but not too late to be welcome, I trust."

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Indeed, no, Harry. But this is unexpected. We thoughtwe fancied

"That I had said good-bye for the last time. But I am come to say it again."

"But not to-night, Harry! You don't mean that you are going away again to-night ?" said Prissy, in alarm.

"Not if

you will take me in, aunty. I am too tired and too

hungry to run away so hastily. Besides, I came from London today on purpose to see you."

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"From London to-day! My poor boy!" exclaimed Miss Fleming, in a tone of commiseration. 'William, you hear what Mr. Rivers says. Hungry and weary. You will see that the bed is prepared, and the room made ready, and you will bring in the tray.

"I must bespeak your hospitality for Tom Carey, also, aunt Melly," said Harry. "He was good enough to walk with me from the forge; and I dare say he is hungry too, if not weary.” "He shall have refreshments, Harry. Where have Where have you left him?"

"In the kitchen, aunt—”

"Not with" gasped Miss Fleming, in such alarm that she did not conclude the sentence.

"With the women creeters, as Mr. Crickett says," rejoined Harry, laughing. "Well, yes, I must plead guilty to the indiscretion, aunt. But there is not much cause for alarm. Poor Tom is in too much trouble about his Mary to be very gay."

"They aren't to be trusted, if he is," said Mr. Crickett, who stood apparently waiting further orders; "and, with your leave, Miss Fleming, I'll take Carey into my room, and give him his bread and cheese there, if Master Harry will put up with being waited on by one of the

"One of the women creeters,” said Harry, taking the words out of Mr. Crickett's mouth. "There could not be a better arrangement than that," he added.

"It had better be so, I think, my dear," said aunt Prissy, thoughtfully: "those forgemen are rough characters, I am afraid."

"Poor Tom is as gentle as a lamb, aunt," said Harry, earnestly, and he proceeded to enlarge upon his good qualities. He had so much to say, and was so eloquent, that before he had concluded

the promised tray was brought in by a neat-handed Phillis; and Harry, who had dined hastily on the road, and early in the day, deferred Tom's complete vindication till after supper.

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CHAPTER VII.

MR. CRICKETT.

Toм, what's the meaning of this here coming back?" "Do you mean Master Harry's coming back, Will?" "Of course I do," said the butler.

"Then I can't tell you. I suppose the captain knows his own business. Anyhow I have not asked him, and he hasn't told it me. I may give a guess, however," said Tom, with an air of indifference, contrasting strikingly with the perturbation visible on Mr. Crickett's countenance.

The ladies of the Priory would have been somewhat amazed and disconcerted if they, at this minute, could have looked in upon their confidential servant-the steady and trusty William Crickett -who had lost no time in hurrying Tom Carey away from the seductive influences of "the women creeters," and quietly ensconced him in his own room, which was in the detached building already mentioned.

So anxious, apparently, was Mr. Crickett to secure the unwary and susceptible forgeman from the crafty designs of the fair damsels, that he not only hurried him from their presence, but having accomplished this object, he closed tight the shutters of his room, and double-locked and bolted the door against the possibility of intrusion. Having done this, the next proceeding was to remove the wig from his head and jerk it to the farther side of the room. Next after this, he unlocked a cupboard and

extracted from its recesses a large stone bottle and two rummer glasses, which he placed silently on the table. His next proceeding was to stir up his fire-for Mr. Crickett was more susceptible of cold than his mistresses-and to heap on the hot embers several clumps of dry wood; and between these he secured a black warming-pot, half-filled with spring water, which speedily began to simmer. Next, after this, Mr. Crickett as silently drew forth from the same cupboard a meat pie, of considerable dimen sions, with plate, knife and fork, and condiments according. Having done all this, and set Tom to work upon the tempting viands, he spoke, and Tom Carey replied, in the words we have set down.

"And your guess-what is that?" demanded Mr. Crickett, whom, as we have seen, his companion had, with most extraordinary assurance, coolly called "Will."

"Well, I don't know that there is much of a secret in it, and no harm, so it may as well out. It's my belief that Master Harry can't cordially put up with his match being broke off with Miss Gilbert, over yonder, and that he has come down from London to give it one more chance of being mended."

"Is that all ?"

"That's all my guess, Will, right or wrong."

"I wouldn't give much for his chance, then; that's all I have got to say," observed Mr. Crickett.

"I am pretty much of your mind, Will," said Tom, going on with his supper; "and yet I don't know. There's many crooks and corners in these marrying affairs, mostly. And it may come right at last, for all that's come and gone."

"It may come right at last, Tom Carey," said Mr. Crickett, "but not by Harry Rivers marrying that girl."

"I don't know why he shouldn't, Will," said Tom.
"You don't know?" said the butler, with a sneer.

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Why,

you don't suppose that any woman as is a lady, such as Miss

D

Gilbert, would look upon a broken-down beggar like young Rivers, do you?"

Before Mr. Crickett had completed his question, Tom had pushed his plate away, thrown down his knife and fork, and was on his feet, his face in a fine glow of honest indignation, and his great big muscular hand laid on the butler's shoulder with a grip like that of an iron vice.

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Say that again, Will Crickett; say such another word again, and, as sure as you are here, you'll be sorry for it for once in your life. Another word like it,” he repeated, retaining his hold in spite of the impotent writhings of the disconcerted butler, "and you and I will have just one-but I see you won't say it," he added, relaxing and relinquishing his hold as he spoke, and coolly reseating himself, "and a good thing for you that you have thought better of it."

"I don't know why I should think better of it, or should not say what I like:" the words came tremulously from between Mr. Crickett's paled lips.

'Because you know now what would come of it if you said anything like that again," Tom Carey replied, resuming his meal. "So you threaten me, do you, Tom Carey ?" said the butler, whose rage at being handled, if not loud, seemed deep.

"I never threaten much, Will Crickett; there's no occasion," rejoined Tom, quietly: "when I mean to do a thing I do it, a'most generally."

"It is as much as you are worth, a hundred times over, to do anything against me; and you know it," whispered the butler, hoarsely, in Tom's ear.

"And what about yourself, Will? But come, what's the use of talking foolishness in this way? Say what you have got to say, and have done with it, only let Master Harry Rivers and his concerns alone."

The butler poured out from the stone bottle about a third part