John went downstairs much and deeply impressed. He told the assembled company in the servants’ hall that his lordship had said nothing to him personally. “But the rest of you may just get ready to go. Mr. Saunders won’t get even his month’s warning. That much I can tell you, and you’ll have to clear out--but there’s nothing against me.” “Nobody can say,” said cook, “as I’ve shown any incivility to Miss ’Ill. I’m one as likes Miss ’Ill. I always did say as you was going too far.” “I’ve never said a word good, bad, or indifferent,” said the housemaid, “since the first day: and then it was John as sauced her, and I only looked on.” “I never sauced her,” cried John. Saunders alone was silent. His confederates had all given him up as is inevitable in such circumstances, and it was very evident that there was no help possible for him. There was dismay also in the nursery, but in those regions the authorities held apart and did not compromise themselves in the servants’ hall. Mary, however, felt herself taken hold of as by a little beneficent providence when she was taken in hand by Lord Frogmore. He arranged at once a little programme for her. It was too late now to go up so far as Yorkshire that afternoon, so he permitted her to remain for the night at Greenpark, to pack and arrange for her journey. He himself in the meanwhile would remain at the railway hotel near the station, and in the morning he would come for her and take her home. It was very startling to Mary to be thus swept away. She had herself strongly developed the instinct of putting up with what was disagreeable--with the certainty that there were many things in life which it was impossible to mend, and which had to be borne as cheerfully as possible. But Lord Frogmore had no mind to put up with anything. The idea of enduring a moment’s annoyance which could be prevented seemed folly to the imperative old gentleman. The difference was that he had always had it in his power to prevent the greater part at least of the annoyances of life, whereas Mary never had possessed that power. He whirled her away next day in a reserved carriage with all the luxury with which it was possible to surround a railway journey--she who had been accustomed to a humble corner in the second class! and deposited her that evening in the vicarage in a tumult of joy and excitement which it would be impossible to describe. The old people, the vicar and his wife, were indeed full of alarm, terrified by the telegram that announced Mary’s immediate return, and troubled to think that something must have happened to account for so sudden and important a journey. They had comforted each other by the reflection that it could not be Mary’s fault. Mary who was always so good and patient. But an event so sudden is always alarming, and it took them a long time to understand the rights of the matter, and what Lord Frogmore had to do with it and what they had to do with him. Old Mr. Hill was not very much older than Lord