"What does the man mean, Mrs. Cobbold? what does the man mean?" This was rather a delicate point to answer; but the little shrewd Mary, who perfectly well knew what the old man meant, said at once with the most perfect innocence-- "Oh, Mr. Gardiner! Robin means that you look so dirty and shabby that you must be bewitched." At this moment a servant brought a note to the lady, which, on opening, she read as follows:-- "MY DEAR MADAM, "You mentioned to me some time since that you wanted a good strong girl who could assist in the double capacity of a laundress and a nursery-maid; the bearer of this is Margaret Catchpole, whom I have known from her infancy. My cook tells me she is very quick at learning, and very handy at any work that may be required of her; she also states herself to be very fond of children. She lived servant-of-all-work at the Priory Farm, and has since kept her uncle's house, where she has had the care of seven young children. Mr. Notcutt, who knew her when she lived at service at Bealings, speaks highly of her character. I think you will find her a very useful servant; and if you have not engaged one, I really think you will be satisfied with this young woman. Wishing that such may be the case, believe me to remain, my dear madam, yours faithfully, "GEORGE STEBBING. "Orwell Place, "May 25th, 1793." As Mrs. Cobbold opened the note, the artists retired; and she told the footman to send the young woman round to the front of the house, and she would speak to her there. She then kindly addressed the old fisherman:-- "I wish, Robin, I could find a charm which would drive all these fiends away from you at once, that you might become a believer in a more blessed agency than in such unhappy beings." "Ah! bless you, lady! bless you! If your wish could but be gratified, I should soon be at liberty; but it will never be so: they have taken up their abode with me, and as long as they can torment me, they will. I knew last night that there would be a storm, and, sure enough, there was one; but my old barque rode it out, though many a tighter craft went to the bottom. My foes, though they love to punish my flesh, will not let me perish." "That is but a vain hope, Robin, which will one day deceive you: you trust too much in your crazy barque, and to a no less crazy imagination; and, when too late, you will own your self-delusion." His benefactress could not succeed in arguing him out of his belief, and had just told him to leave the fish at the back-door, as Margaret made her appearance before her future mistress. She started back when she beheld Robin, and again thought that some evil genius had determined to oppose her wherever she went. "Ah! is that you, Peggy? It's many a long day since I've seen you. Have the fiends played you any more tricks?"