"That I will, lad, and kindly welcome. What will thou have? I've a fat fish pie and some cold pork and beans." "Let's have the pork and beans, for I've been eating pie up yonder." "Good, and I'll put some apples down to roast. Hast thou enjoyed thy holiday?" "Ay, middling, thank you, if it hadn't been so cold." "It's a desperate cold winter!" said Isel, with a sigh, which Stephen felt certain was breathed to the memory of the Germans. "I never remember a worse." "I'm afraid you feel lonely, Aunt." "Ay, lonely enough, the saints know!" "Why doesn't Haimet wed, and bring you a daughter to help you? Mabel's a bit too grand, I reckon." "Mabel thinks a deal of herself, that's true. Well. I don't know. One's not another, Stephen." "I'll not gainsay you, Aunt Isel. But mayn't `another' be better than none? Leastwise, some others,"--as a recollection of his amiable sister-in-law crossed his mind. "I don't know, Stephen. Sometimes that hangs on the `one.' You'll think it unnatural in me, lad, but I don't miss Flemild nor Derette as I do Ermine." "Bless you, dear old thing!" said Stephen in his heart. "O Stephen, lad, I believe you've a kind heart; you've shown it in a many little ways. Do let me speak to you of them now and again! Your uncle won't have me say a word, and sometimes I feel as if I should burst. I don't believe you'd tell on me, if I did, and it would relieve me like, if I could let it out to somebody." "Catch me at it!" said Stephen significantly. "You say what you've a mind, Aunt Isel: I'm as safe as the King's Treasury." "Well, lad, do you think they're all gone--every one?" "I'm afraid there's no hope for the most of them, Aunt," said Stephen in a low voice. "Then you do think there might--?" "One, perhaps, or two--ay, there _might_ be, that had got taken in somewhere. I can't say it isn't just possible. But folks would be afraid of helping them, mostly." "Ay, I suppose they would," said Isel sorrowfully. Stephen ate in silence, sorely tempted to tell her what he knew. Had the danger been for himself only, and not for Ermine, he thought he should certainly have braved it. "Well!" said Isel at last, as she stood by the fire, giving frequent twirls to the string which held the apples. "Maybe the good Lord is more merciful than men. _They_ haven't much mercy." "Hold you there!" said Stephen. "Now why shouldn't we?--we that are all sinners, and all want forgiving? We might be a bit kinder to one another, if we tried." "Some folks might. I'm not sure you could, Aunt Isel." "Eh, lad, I'm as bad a sinner as other folks. I do pray to be forgiven many a time." "Maybe that's a good help to forgiving," said Stephen. "So you're back from your holiday?" said Haimet, coming in, and flinging his felt hat on one of the shelves. "Well, where did you go?" "Oh, round-about," replied Stephen, taking his last mouthful of beans. "Did you go Banbury way?"