The butcher spoke like a village philosopher; but there may have been an underlying reason for his anxiety for a happy result to Norman. It might be that an opposite one would affect the free-handed distribution of joints of beef for Christmas dinners which he was accustomed to supply. "I say that if the Post Office gentleman had been a king, he could not have been better cared for or waited upon by a handsomer landlady." This compliment came from the schoolmaster, who was suspected of writing poetry and of admiring the comely widow who ruled The Arms. "I suppose you never ventured to say a word for the squire?" inquired a farmer. "Oh dear, no. How could anything I might say help Mr. Savell?" replied the landlady. "Why not? One of my lads read out of a storybook how a mouse helped a lion out of a net; and surely the missis here is better than a mouse." "You allude to a common fable, my friend," said the schoolmaster, loftily. "Fable or not, it teaches a good lesson," retorted the farmer; "and it is the good things that get to be common, because folks read them." "You all know," interposed the landlady, "how gladly I should speak, if I could help the squire. But if I dropped a word about Mr. Norman being such a kind gentleman and landlord, Mr. Fisher would give a little nod and turn to something else. So I judged that he did not choose to be talked to about that matter, and that I might do more harm than good if I went on. Sometimes one may do more by holding one's tongue than by speaking." "You have learned a difficult lesson. It is a grand thing to be a fair woman with discretion," replied the schoolmaster; and the landlady, who was not wholly superior to compliments, felt secretly gratified at receiving such from the best scholar in Overford, setting aside the Court and the vicarage. Thursday came at last, and brought a happy ending to all the suspense and anxiety of the preceding days. The solicitor who represented the Post Office authorities stated that, being convinced that Mr. Savell had no felonious intentions when he broke open the mail-bag, and seeing that he had already publicly expressed his regret, they had given him instructions, with the permission of the magistrates, to withdraw the charge. Only Mr. Savell must pay all the expenses. The room was thronged as before, and the moment it was understood that the squire would not be sent to prison, there was a rush from within to let outsiders know the result. Then came a burst of cheering for the magistrates, the squire, and the inspector, led on by the butcher, who anticipated a more liberal Christmas distribution than ever. He was not disappointed. Who can paint either the effects of joy or sorrow? Only can we judge what others feel by looking into our own hearts, and by the experience of our own past lives.