"It is like to be somewhat rare good," quoth she. "The Lord's so rich, look you,--main richer nor Sir _Aubrey_. If t' servant gives poor folk plum-porridge, what'll t' Master give?" _Father_ answered her, for he was close by-- "`Fat things full of marrow, wines on the lees well refined.'" "Eh, that sounds good!" saith she, a-licking of her lips. "And that's for t' hungry folk, Master?" "It is only for hungry folk," saith he. "'Tis not thrown away on the full ones. `Whosoever will, take,' saith the Lord, who gives the feast." "Eh, then I shall get some!" saith she, a-laughing all o'er her face, as she doth when she is pleased at aught. "You'll be sure and let me know when 'tis, Master? I'll come, if 'tis snow up to t' knees all t' way." "The Lord will be sure and let thee know, _Madge_, when 'tis ready," saith _Father_; for he hath oft said that little as poor _Madge_ can conceive, he is assured she is one of God's childre. "Oh, if 'tis _Him_ to let me know, 't'll be all right," saith _Madge_, smiling and drawing of her cloak around her. "He'll not forget _Madge_--not He. He come down o' purpose to die for _me_, you know." _Father_ saith, as _Madge_ trudged away in her clogs after old _Madge_, her grandmother-- "Ah, rich _Madge_--not poor! May-be thine shall be the most abundant entrance of any in this chamber." I am at the end of my month, and as to-morrow I hand the book to _Helen_. But I dare not count up my two-pences, for I am feared they be so many. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Note 1. Complexion, at this date, signified temperament, not colour. The Middle Age physicians divided the complexions of mankind into four-- the lymphatic, the sanguine, the nervous, and the bilious: and their treatment was always grounded on these considerations. Colour of skin, hair, and eyes, being considered symptomatic of complexion, the word was readily transferred from one to the other. CHAPTER SEVEN. AUNT JOYCE TACKLES A GHOST. "'Twas but one little drop of sin We saw this morning enter in, And lo! at eventide the world is drowned." Keble. (_In Helen's handwriting_.) SELWICK HALL, JANUARY YE IV. Dear heart, but I ne'er thought our _Edith_ should have filled so much paper! Yet it doth seem me she is more livelier at writing than at household duties. I have watched her pen a-flying of a night (for she can write twice as fast as I, she writing of the new _Italian_ hand, and I but the old _English_) [Note 1] till I marvelled whate'er she found to say. And methinks she hath, likewise, a better memory than I, for I reckon I should have made some mighty blunder in all these long talks which she hath set down so pat.