"And about the dog?" I ventured to say. "Lady Betty has so set her heart upon it, I hardly know what she would do if it were killed. May I tell her that you do not mean to—" "Of course," said he, interrupting me with some indignation in his voice. "Whoever thought of killing the poor thing? I wonder you should think of such a thing. What do you take me for, Mistress Merton?" "For a man who throws stones, and then wonders that any one should be so foolish as to be hit," I thought, but I only said, "I thank your Lordship. I will set poor Lady Betty's mind at rest, then." "Of course. And here, give her this," said he, giving me a gold piece from his pocket. "Much use she has for money, poor thing; a few kind words would be worth far more," I thought, but I said no more. I sat next Mr. Penrose at supper, and noticed that he ate almost nothing—only brown bread and cheese. Methought he looked reprovingly at my dish of cream and slice of white bread. He has been in Chester, and we had a pleasant little talk about that part of the country. I think I could like him well enough if he were not so solemn. I set poor Betty's mind at rest by giving her my Lord's message and present, at which she was wondrously delighted, and said again and again how good he was. I did not see the great goodness, but I was content that she should think so. [Illustration] [Illustration] CHAPTER V. _EASTER TIDE._ _April 15._ THIS is Holy-week, and I have very little time to write in my journal. I am trying to pursue the course of devotions Lady Jemima gave me, and of which Mr. Penrose highly approves; and that, with my attendance on Lady Betty, takes all my time. Lady Betty has not been so well, and is rather fretful and exacting. I try to have patience with her, but it is hard work, sometimes. I don't know what to do about receiving the Sacrament at Easter. I don't like to miss it, but Mr. Penrose and Lady Jemima say so much of the peril of unworthily receiving. Lady Jemima is very kind to me, and gives me much good advice. I told her that I felt very unhappy because I was no better, and she said that was right—that we ought constantly to contemplate our sins and short comings in order to make us humble and contrite, and that it became sinners, in a state of probation, and likely to be called to judgment at any time, to be grave and sad. I have no time now to read the "Contemplations," and not much for the Scripture. To be sure, we hear it in chapel every day. _April 17._ Betty said to me, this morning: "You are not my sunshiny Margaret, any more. You look so solemn all the time, just like Aunt Jemima!"