He came forward and put out his hand, as if to lay hold on me, and, blind with fear and anger, I struck at him with the hot tongs. He recoiled from the blow and stumbled against a dresser, on which Sister Rosina, from mere force of habit, I suppose, had set a great earthen pot of soup, which she had prepared beforehand for the morrow's dinner. Down came the pot, and souse went the greasy liquid over my master's fine clothes and into his hair and eyes. It had been off the fire too long, certainly, to scald, but it was hot enough to be very uncomfortable, and another hasty motion sent the dresser itself, with all its trenchers and pipkins, after the soup. Sister Regina was always saying that dresser would come down some day, and certainly, it took a good opportunity of fulfilling its destiny. While its victim was cursing and swearing and roaring for help, I escaped from the nearest door and ran up a winding stair and through rooms and galleries where I had never been before, to the prioress's own room, bursting in upon her in the most unmannerly fashion. "Loveday, is this you? Where do you come from, and what ails you?" asked the lady in some displeasure. I mustered my breath as well as I could, and told her what had happened, whereat she laughed—almost the only time I ever saw her do so, though her smiles were frequent enough—I also showed her my uncle's letter, not seeing any harm in so doing, as things were at that time. "Ay, every one foresees the evil save the one whom it most concerns," said she. "Do you know aught of this Master Davis, save what your uncle says?" "I have often seen him when I lived in London, reverend mother. He and his son were great friends of mine uncle's. He was well-to-do at that time and in a large way of business, and a learned man—or so I have heard mine uncle say." "And what say you? Do you incline to go to him?" I told her frankly, that I did, since mine uncle, who was my nearest relation, and therefore my natural guardian, desired me to do so. "It is well," said the lady. "If I were going to a house of my own, Loveday, I would ask you to go with me, and be as a daughter to me. But my brother hath a large family, and I shall be but a dependent myself. I had made up my mind to keep you for a time at any rate, but perhaps it is as well. Ah, my poor child, we who thought to die in our nest, must now learn the truth of what the Italian poet saith:" "'How hard he fares Who goeth up and down another's stairs.'" "But we must have patience. 'For here we have no continuing city'—well for us if we can add—'but we seek one to come—if, indeed, we look for a city which hath foundations whose builder and maker is God.'"