By the irony of fate, Aunt Eliza, of all people, turned out to be the _Dea ex machinâ_. The thing fell out in this wise. It was that lady’s obnoxious practice to issue forth, of a Sunday afternoon, on a visit of state to such farmers and cottagers as dwelt at hand; on which occasion she was wont to hale a reluctant boy along with her, from the mixed motives of propriety and his soul’s health. Much cudgelling of brains, I suppose, had on that particular day made me torpid and unwary. Anyhow, when a victim came to be sought for, I fell an easy prey, while the others fled scatheless and whooping. Our first visit was to the Larkins. Here ceremonial might be viewed in its finest flower, and we conducted ourselves, like Queen Elizabeth when she trod the measure, ‘high and disposedly.’ In the low oak-panelled parlour cake and currant wine were set forth, and, after courtesies and compliments exchanged, Aunt Eliza, greatly condescending, talked the fashions with Mrs. Larkin; while the farmer and I, perspiring with the unusual effort, exchanged remarks on the mutability of the weather and the steady fall in the price of corn. (Who would have thought, to hear us, that only two short days ago we had confronted each other on either side of a hedge? I triumphant, provocative, derisive? He flushed, wroth, cracking his whip, and volleying forth profanity? So powerful is all-subduing ceremony!) Sabina the while, demurely seated with a _Pilgrim’s Progress_ on her knee, and apparently absorbed in a brightly-coloured presentment of ‘Apollyon Straddling Right across the Way,’ eyed me at times with shy interest; but repelled all Aunt Eliza’s advances with a frigid politeness for which I could not sufficiently admire her. ‘It’s surprising to me,’ I heard my aunt remark presently, ‘how my eldest nephew, Edward, despises little girls. I heard him tell Charlotte the other day that he wished he could exchange her for a pair of Japanese guinea-pigs. It made the poor child cry. Boys are so heartless!’ (I saw Sabina stiffen as she sat, and her tip-tilted nose twitched scornfully.) ‘Now this boy here——’ (my soul descended into my very boots. Could the woman have intercepted any of my amorous glances at the baker’s wife?) ‘Now this boy,’ my aunt went on, ‘is more human altogether. Only yesterday he took his sister to the baker’s shop, and spent his only penny buying her sweets. I thought it showed such a nice disposition. I wish Edward were more like him!’ I breathed again. It was unnecessary to explain my real motives for that visit to the baker’s. Sabina’s face softened, and her contemptuous nose descended from its altitude of scorn; she gave me one shy glance of kindness, and then concentrated her attention upon Mercy knocking at the Wicket Gate. I felt awfully mean as regarded Edward; but what could I do? I was in Gaza, gagged and bound; the Philistines hemmed me in.