But I am wandering a long way from Mrs. Philippa and her affairs. The lady accomplished her journey in safety, as she sent word when the carriage came back, and felt herself much better for the change. She sent her love to Mrs. Deborah, with a handsome new china jug—Mrs. Deborah was fond of jugs—and to Mrs. Chloe, a soft warm shawl and a pair of fur-lined slippers; and there were little presents for Amabel and myself, and a parcel of needles, knitting-pins and thread for the school children. Richard on being questioned, declared that Mrs. Philippa had purchased all these things herself—that she was buying "a power of new gowns," and was "as pert as a pyet," and moreover had not called him a fool once since he left the Hall. By all which signs, he concluded infallibly, that Mrs. Philippa was not long for this world. "Did you see any one that we know, Richard, beside Lady Betty's family?" asked Mrs. Chloe. "I did see Doctor Brown!" answered Richard. "His Reverence was about buying of a new coach, and Lady Betty and Mrs. Philippa went with him to see it." Whereupon I glanced at Amabel, and she shook her head severely at me. Shrove Tuesday was a lovely day, I remember. Amabel and I had been out looking for flowers, and had found very few, for spring comes but slowly in Northumberland. However, we had gathered a bunch of wind flowers, and had the wonderful good luck to find in a sheltered sunny spot a tuft of primroses, and a few sweet blue and white violets. When we went in to carry them to Aunt Chloe, we found her leaning back in her chair sobbing bitterly. Mrs. Deborah held an open letter in her hand, and looked as though she did not know whether to laugh or be angry. A box full of bride-cake and another of white gloves and favors stood on the table. I guessed all in a minute and glanced at Amabel, who looked puzzled enough. With all her intelligence, she was never very "gleg at the uptak," except where people's feelings were concerned. I was dying with curiosity, but of course I did not ask any questions, but waited to be told. "Well, nieces, what do you think has happened?" said Mrs. Deborah. I knew well enough, but nobody likes to have their news forestalled, so I did not say a word, but left the answer to Amabel, who was as innocent as a babe. "Nothing bad, I hope, aunt; nothing to Mrs. Philippa," said she. "Something to Mrs. Philippa, but nothing bad," said Mrs. Deborah, trying to keep the corners of her mouth in order. "Nieces, your Aunt Philippa is married!" And here Mrs. Deborah broke down into a hearty laugh, while Mrs. Chloe sobbed afresh, and murmured, "Sister Deborah, how can you?" "Why, one may as well laugh as cry, child," said Mrs. Deborah. "Yes, after twenty years of mournful constancy to the memory of her first love, my Sister Philippa is really married, and to whom do you think?" "To Doctor Brown!" I could not help saying. "Even so, child, but how did you hear?"