"Nay, Maria, you are too old to flatter. Fie! I have no advancement to offer thee. In truth thou art sovereign here--though you go through your realm with but scant attendance for one so magnified. Why is not Albert in your train? I may well spare him--as he has a liking for such service." "Brother, I would not tax the Secretary. He hath a free foot for his own pleasure; and, methinks, he finds his way to the Rose Croft easily enough without my teaching. It is an ancient caution of mine, in such affairs, neither to mar nor make." "Heaven help thee for a considerate spinster!" said the Proprietary with a benignant smile as he raised his hands and shook them sportively towards his sister. "Go thy ways, with thy whimsies and thy scruples;--and a blessing on them! I wish yours were our only cares:--but go thy ways, girl!" he added, as the lady set forth on her journey, and he withdrew from the door. At the Rose Croft, the approaching merry-making had superseded all other family topics, both in parlour and kitchen. The larder was already beginning to exhibit the plentiful accumulations which, in a place of strength, might portend a siege: the stable boys were ever on the alert, with their cavalry, to do rapid errands to the town, and Michael Mossbank, the gardener, was seen in frequent and earnest consultation with John Pouch, a river-side cotter, touching supplies of fish and wild fowl. Whilst the elder sister Alice despatched the graver duties of the housekeeping, she had consigned to Blanche the not less important care of summoning the guests, and the maiden was now seated at the table with pen in hand registering the names of those who had been, or were to be invited to the feast,--or in other words making a census of pretty nearly the whole tithable population of St. Mary's and its dependencies. "A plague upon it for a weary labour!" she exclaimed as she threw down the pen and rested her chin upon the palm of her hand. "I know I shall forget somebody I ought not to forget--and shall be well rated for it. And then again I shall be chid for being too free with my fellowship.--What a world of names is here! I did not think the whole province had so many. There is Winnefred Hay, the Viewer's sister,--they have tales about her which, if they be true, it is not fit she should be a crony of mine--and yet I don't believe them, though many do.--Truly the Viewer will be in a grand passion if I slight her! Sister Alice, give me your advice." "Bid her to the feast, Blanche. We should be slow to believe these rumours to the injury of a neighbour. Winnefred Hay, is not over discreet--and gives more semblance to an evil opinion than, in truth, her faults deserve: but the townspeople are scarce better in this quickness to censure--especially such as look to the tobacco viewing. Lawrence Hay's place has something to do with that scandal."