Notwithstanding the little spice of impertinence peeping out in the last sentence, Samuel Lynn saw no reason to correct Anna. That she could ever be wrong, he scarcely admitted to his own heart. "Dry thy tears, child, and take thy tea," said he. "Patience wanted thee, maybe, for some household matter; it can wait another opportunity. Patience," he added, as if to drown the sound of his words and their remembrance, "are my shirts in order?" "Thy shirts in order?" repeated Patience. "Why dost thee ask that?" "I should not have asked it without reason," returned he. "Wilt thee please give me an answer?" "The old shirts are as much in order as things, beginning to wear, can be," replied Patience. "Thy new shirts I cannot say much about. They will not be finished this side Midsummer, unless Anna sits to them a little closer than she is doing now." "Thy shirts will be ready quite in time, father; before the old ones are gone beyond wearing," spoke up Anna. "I don't know that," said Mr. Lynn. "Had they been ready, child, I might have wanted them now. I am going a journey." "Is it the French journey thee hast talked of once or twice lately?" interposed Patience. "Yes," said Samuel Lynn. "The master was speaking to me about it this afternoon. We were interrupted, and I did not altogether gather when he wishes me to start; but I fancy it will be immediately----" "Oh, father! couldst thee not take me?" The interruption came from Anna. Her blue eyes were glistening, her cheeks were crimson; a journey to the interior of France wore charms for her as great as it did for Cyril Dare. All the way home from West Street she had been thinking how she should spend her miserable home days, debarred of the evening snatches of Mr. Herbert's charming society. Going to France would be something. "I wish I could take thee, child! But thee art aware thee might as well ask me to take the Malvern Hills." In her inward conviction, Anna believed she might. Before she could oppose any answering but most useless argument, Samuel Lynn's attention was directed to the road. Parting opposite to his house, as if they had just walked together from the manufactory, were Mr. Ashley and William Halliburton. The master walked on. William, catching Samuel Lynn's eye, came across and entered. Mr. Ashley had been telling William some news. Though no vacillating man in a general way, it appeared that he had again reconsidered his determination with regard to despatching William to France. He had come to the resolve to send him, as well as Samuel Lynn. William could not help surmising that his betrayed emotion the previous night, his fears touching Mr. Ashley's reason for not sending him, may have had something to do with that gentleman's change of mind. "Will you be troubled with me?" asked he of Mr. Lynn, when he had imparted this to him.