Helen Flint, who was busy at the fire, welcomed the offered help with a bright smile like her mother's, and set Agnes to work at once. The latter was beginning to find herself very hungry, and Mistress Flint treated her guest to considerably better fare than Mistress Winter did her drudge. There were comparatively few of the household at home to supper; for the party consisted only of Mr and Mrs Flint, two daughters, Helen and Anne, and the little boys, Will and Dickon. "What news abroad, Goodman?" demanded Mistress Flint, when her curiosity got the better of her hunger. "Why, that 'tis like to rain," returned her husband, a quiet, unobtrusive man, with a good deal of dry humour. "That I wist aforetime," retorted she; "for no sooner set I my foot out of the door this morrow than I well-nigh stepped of a black snail." "I reckon," observed Mr Flint, calmly cutting into a pasty, "that black snails be some whither when there is no wet at hand." "Gramercy, nay!" cried unphilosophical Mistress Flint. "Oh, so?" said he. "Fall they from the sky, trow, or grow up out o' th' ground?" "Dear heart [darling, beloved one], Jack Flint! how can I tell?" answered his wife. "Then, dear heart, Mall Flint!" responded he, imitating her, "I'd leave be till I so could." Mistress Flint laughed; for nothing ever disturbed her temper, and the banter was as good-humoured as possible. "Well, for sure!" said she. "Is there ne'er a man put in the pillory, nor a woman whipped at the cart-tail, nor so much as a strange fish gone by London Bridge? Ha, Nan! yonder's a stranger in the bars. Haste thee, see what manner of man." Anne left the form on which she was sitting, and peered intently into the grate. "'Tis a dark man, Mother," said she, after careful investigation. "Is he nigh at hand?" inquired Mistress Flint anxiously. "I trow so," replied Anne, still occupied with the bars, "and reasonable rich to boot." "Marry, yonder's a jolly hearing!" said her mother. "How so," asked Mr Flint, pursing up his lips, "without he make us a gift of his riches?" "Dear heart alive!" suddenly ejaculated Mistress Flint, turning round on Helen. "How many a score o' times must I tell thee, Nell, that to lay thy knife and spoon the one across the other is the unluckiest thing in all this world, saving only the breaking of a steel glass [looking-glass], and a winding-sheet in the candle? Lay them straight along this minute, child! Dear, dear; but to think of it!" Helen, in some perturbation, altered her knife and spoon to the required positions. "Now, Agnes, dear heart, prithee get some flesh o' thy bones!" said Mistress Flint, returning to her usual cheery manner. "Good lack! I love not to see a maid so like to a scarecrow as thou. Come now, another shive of mutton? well, then, a piece o' th' pasty--do! Eh, in good sooth, thou mayest well look white. Now, Will and Dickon, lads, 'tis time ye were abed."