"I told Miss Jessy that I should be running down some day to renew my acquaintanceship with her and make that of her family," said Mr. Marcus Allen to Miss Page. "Having no particular engagement on my hands this Christmas time, I came." He spoke in the most easy manner conceivable: his accent and manner were certainly those of a gentleman. As to the fashionable attire and the rings and chains, rather startling though they looked to us in the dark church on that dark and busy evening, they were all the rage for dandies in the great world then. Noticing the intimation that he had come purposely to see them, Miss Page supposed that she ought, in hospitably good manners, to invite him to stay a day or two at the farm, but doubted whether so imposing a gentleman would condescend to do so. She said nothing about it then, and we all went out of the church together; except John Drench, who stayed behind with Leek to help clear up the litter for the man to carry away. It was light outside, and I took a good look at the stranger: a handsome man of seven-or-eight-and-twenty, with hard eyes, and black whiskers curled to perfection. "In what way is he related to the Allens of Aberystwith, Jessy?" questioned Miss Page, drawing her sister away, as we went through the coppice. "I don't quite know, Abigail. He is some distant cousin." "How came you never to speak of him?" "I--I did not remember to do so." "Very careless of you, child. Especially if he gave you cause to suppose he might come here. I don't like to be taken by surprise by strangers; it is not always convenient." Jessy walked along in silence, meek as a lamb. "What is he?--in any profession, or trade?" "Trade? Oh, I don't think he does anything of that kind, Abigail. That branch of the family would be above it, Mrs. Allen said. He has a large income, she says; plenty of money." "I take it, then, that he is above _us_," reasoned Miss Page. "Oh dear, yes: in station. Ever so much." "Then I'm sure I don't care to entertain him." Miss Page went straight into the best kitchen on arriving at home. Her father sat in the large hearth corner, smoking his pipe. She told him about the stranger, and said she supposed they must ask him to stay over the morrow--Christmas-Day. "Why shouldn't we?" asked Mr. Page. "Well, father, he seems very grand and great." "Does he? Give him the best bedroom." "And our ways are plain and simple, you know," she added. "He must take us as he finds us, Abigail. Any friend of Mrs. Allen's is welcome: she was downright kind to the children." We had a jolly tea. Tod and I had been asked to it beforehand. Pork-pies, Miss Susan's making, hot buttered batch-cakes, and lemon cake and jams. Mr. Marcus Allen was charmed with everything: he was a pleasant man to talk to. When we left, he and Mr. Page had gone to the best kitchen again, to smoke together in the wide chimney corner. * * * * *