A few steps more and the little party came out from the sheltered street, and the full force of the wind met them with a mingled dash of foam-flakes and sand. Half-blinded, Audrey was lifted from her horse, and staggered into the shelter of the deep porch--a porch she knew only too well. The Perrient arms were gone that once presided over the stately entrance to Sir Gyles Perrient's house, and a great signboard, daubed with a gaudy representation of an oak-tree, creaked as it swung in the shrill night wind, but in all else her grandfather's mansion was unchanged. Here was the home where she had reigned queen at Hunstanton--where she had loved and been loved! The house and its mistress had alike fallen on evil times; the mansion was an inn, and Audrey Perrient was a prisoner! Mr. Reed's summons was answered by the buxom landlady, whose cheerful voice resounded through the house before she appeared at the door. "Stars o' mine! what's that you say? Justice Tomkins in liquor? That's no new tidings! What! Mistress Perrient without, with Tom Constable! I'll never credit it! Stars o' mine! Justice must have been pretty drunk before he sent you off on such a fool's errand! You should see to him, Mr. Reed! But there! set a beggar on horseback, and we all know where he'll ride to! Come your ways in, Mistress Perrient, my dear, and don't you take on! 'Tis enough to make Sir Gyles get out o' his grave, it is! Why it makes me swimmy like! 'Tis a pity Justice Lestrange is out of town; but, for sure, 'twill be all right in the morning, when our fine new justice is out of his cups, and fine and shamed he'll be, I warrant! Will you please to come upstairs, madam. 'Tis strange to show you the way in your own house as should be; but times do change, and if 'twere your own house you couldn't have a cleaner hearth, nor fairer linen, nor one readier to serve you! And what will you take to your supper, my dear? Just a drop of mulled elderberry wine with a toast in it, to keep out the cold--and a wing of a capon, now, couldn't you seem to fancy? Or anything else you could give a name to, it would just be an honour to my house, Mistress Perrient, my dear--madam, I should say; and here's Sally with a hot posset, and that you shall taste whether you drink it or no. Why, Tom Constable, what are you a-doing of? Turn the key on Mistress Perrient? Do you reckon my house is a lock-up? That's a rare hearing! Not while I am missis here! What's that you are grumbling? Tell justice on me! Tell him and welcome; but stand out o' the way while Molly brings in the feather bed."