"No, I won't hear anything now, Father Roger," said the old lady after a pause, for her new guests belonged to the family now, she considered, and were to be "thee'd and thou'd" and managed like the rest. "You must not say another word; you must eat and drink and get thoroughly rested, and then, to-morrow perhaps, or in a day or two, when you have said prayers in the chapel (we have one!) and the day's work is done, we will all sit round the fire, and you shall tell us all you know and all you have seen." Aunt Orsolya's subjects were well drilled, and though they were burning with eagerness and anxiety, those who had begun to besiege the other wanderers with inquiries at once refrained. Preceded by a couple of torch-bearers, Father Roger was led carefully away to one of the side caves, all of which had their names; Dora was taken in charge by some of the ladies; Talabor and the Canon's servant were equally well looked after, and that night they all once more ate the "home-made bread," which they had so long been without. That it was made with a considerable admixture of tree-bark mattered little, perhaps they hardly noticed the fact. It was simply delicious! And the beds! As Dora sank down on hers, it seemed to her that she had never known real comfort before. At last the excitement of the evening had subsided; the Queen's subjects had all reassembled about the fires, speculating much as to what the new-comers would have to tell them; and presently Aunt Orsolya began her nightly rounds, visiting all in turn, and stopping to have a little kindly chat with each group. CHAPTER XIX. FATHER ROGER'S STORY. A day or two passed, and the good Father Roger began to recover a little of his strength, if not much of his cheerfulness. He was naturally a robust man, and he was, besides, inured to hardship and suffering; there was nothing actually amiss with him but extreme fatigue and want of food, so that after a few quiet nights and days he began to feel more like himself, and able to give some account of all that had happened since Aunt Orsolya and the rest had betaken themselves to the cavern. The men, of course, had some of them been going out more or less all the time, hunting, or--as we have said, stealing, but the accounts they had brought back had been not only imperfect, but often so contradictory that it was hard for the refugees to form any clear idea of what had really been going on, and, naturally enough, they were intensely eager to hear. No one was more eager than Aunt Orsolya, and it cost her no small effort to repress her curiosity, or rather anxiety; but she did it, and not only forbore to question Roger herself, but strictly forbade everyone else to do so also.