"Thank God, the morning is over! That is all I have to say about it," replied she. "Surely those people outside are growing more noisy!" observed Margaret. "I must change my clothes, in case of its being necessary to speak to them," said Hope. "I look too like a victim at present." While he and Hester were out of the room, Philip told Margaret how her brother had been treated at the almshouses. He had narrowly escaped being pulled from his horse and thrown into the pond. He had been followed half-way to Deerbrook by a crowd, throwing stones and shrieking; and just when he had got beyond their reach, he had met Philip, and learned that he had the same thing to go through, at the other extremity of his journey. Finding that both his doors were surrounded, he had judged it best to make for the front, coming home as nearly as possible in his usual manner. He had kept his temper admirably, joking with his detainers, while dealing his blows upon their hands. "Where will all this end?" cried Margaret. "With some going to dinner, and others to supper, I imagine," replied Philip, stepping to the window. "From what I see, that seems likely to be the upshot; for here is Sir William Hunter talking to the people. I had rather he should do it than Hope; and, Margaret, I had rather set my mischievous sister to do it than either. This uproar is all of her making, I am afraid." "Hester has been telling Mr Rowland so, this morning." "I am glad of it. He must help me to work upon her fears, if there is nothing better left to operate upon." "You will not succeed," said Margaret. "Your sister is as strong a heroine in one direction as mine is in another." "She shall yield, however. She may be thankful that she is not here to-day. If she was, I would have her out upon the steps, and make her retract everything; and if she should not be able to speak, I would stand by her and say it for her." "Oh, Philip! what a horrible idea!" "Not half so horrible as the mischief she has done. Why, Margaret, if you were one-tenth part as guilty as Priscilla is, I should require you to make reparation." "Indeed, I hope you would: or rather, that--" "But do not let us conjure up such dreadful images, my Margaret. You never wronged any one, and you never will." "Edward never did, I am sure," said Margaret. "Not even by poisoning children, nor cutting off limbs for sport? Are you quite sure, love? What is Sir William doing here, with only his groom? He and the people look in high good-humour with each other, with all this shaking of hands, and nodding and laughing. I cannot conceive what he can be saying to them, for there are not three faces among the whole array that look as if they belonged to rational creatures." "Never mind," said Margaret. "If what he says sends them away, I care for nothing else about it."