“I left the old stupid coach at Islington, James. The something--pin was loose, or I don't know what. Could I wait two hours there? So I came on by myself; you wicked old man, you let me talk, and don't tell me how he is.” “Master is main well, ma'am, and thank you,” said old Burdock, confused and uneasy. “But is he happy? Of course he is. Are we not to meet to-day after six months? Ah! but never mind, they _are_ gone by.” “Lord bless her!” thought the faithful old fellow. “If sitting down and crying could help her, I wouldn't be long.” By this time they were in the banqueting-room and at the preparations there Mabel gave a start; she then colored. “Oh, he has invited his friends to make acquaintance. I had rather we had been alone all this day and to-morrow. But he must not know that. No; _his_ friends are _my_ friends, and shall be too,” thought the country wife. She then glanced with some misgiving at her traveling attire, and wished she had brought _one_ trunk with her. “James,” said she, “where is my room? And, mind, I forbid you to tell a soul I am come.” “Your room, Miss Mabel?” “Well, any room where there is looking-glass and water.” She then went to a door which opened in fact on a short passage leading to a room occupied by Mr. Vane himself. “No, no!” cried James. “That is master's room.” “Well, is not master's room mistress's room, old man? But stay; is he there?” “No, ma'am; he is in the garden, with a power of fine folks.” “They shall not see me till I have made myself a little more decent,” said the young beauty, who knew at bottom how little comparatively the color of her dress could affect her appearance, and she opened Mr. Vane's door and glided in. Burdock's first determination was, in spite of her injunction, to tell Colander; but on reflection he argued: “And then what will they do? They will put their heads together, and deceive us some other way. No!” thought James, with a touch of spite, “we shall see how they will all look.” He argued also, that, at sight of his beautiful wife, his master must come to his senses, and the Colander faction be defeated; and perhaps, by the mercy of Providence, Colander himself turned off. While thus ruminating, a thundering knock at the door almost knocked him off his legs. “There ye go again,” said he, and he went angrily to the door. This time it was Hunsdon, who was in a desperate hurry to see his master. “Where is Sir Charles Pomander, my honest fellow?” said he. “In the garden, my Jack-a-dandy!” said Burdock, furiously. (“Honest fellow,” among servants, implies some moral inferiority.) In the garden went Hunsdon. His master--all whose senses were playing sentinel--saw him, and left the company to meet him. “She is in the house, sir.” “Good! Go--vanish!”