"I don't suppose, Mr. Collins, you have had your supper," she exclaimed, rising from her chair with a kind of jump. "The idea of me not thinking of that before! and I've got the loveliest pork pie you ever tasted," and in a few minutes there was the refreshing fragrance of coffee in the room and a dainty supper laid on the little round table. Mrs. Colston had always a strong belief in keeping the body well nourished because of its great influence on the mind and heart. "So had the Lord Jesus," she often used to say; "don't you remember how He gave the plain hint to those parents that the girl would need food, and to the disciples about the crowd! And it was just lovely what He said to those fishermen on that early morning when they were cold and wet: 'Come and have something to eat.' Why, when the Lord wanted to give us a bright bit about Heaven He had to bring in a supper party." For all that, Stephen did not eat much, though there is no doubt the fact of a meal being about does help conversation, and to a certain extent raises the spirits. At last Stephen got near the secret of his visit. "Mrs. Colston"--his face was turned towards the fire--"suppose a shepherd out walking, who had become lame--could only walk on crutches--should come across on a dark night a lost lamb--a lamb he had loved dearly. What could he do? If he put the crutches down he could not carry it to its home? If you met a man like that what would you tell him to do?" "I should tell him to speak a few love-words to the lamb, and then hurry away to the nearest cottage and ask the man there to return with him to the lamb and get the man to carry it home." The answer was given straight off, with all a woman's ready tact. "And if he came to your house?" Stephen turned towards her eagerly. "I might not be able to carry the lamb," she said, with a little laugh, "but I would certainly help the poor man all I could, and, at least, I'd try to carry it." Then she added: "Mr. Collins, you are the shepherd; but I don't know who the lamb is. Tell me all about it. I know you trust me or you wouldn't have come to me; and you know I'll do all I can for you." "I know you will," and for the second time that evening he stretched out his hand to grasp another in a close grip. "The lamb is not on any hillside, but in a back parlour." "Whose parlour?" "A draper's." "You don't mean to say it's my Miss Phebe?" bending anxiously towards him, trying to read all she could from his face. "Yes." "Is she ill?--I must go to her at once." "Not ill in body, but heartsick, and in monetary difficulties." "Oh, dear, dear, what can have caused it all? And me not to know a word of it!" "She has told no one but her father and sister. I got to know of it in another way; but do not ask me how--some day I may tell you, but not now." "Where is her husband?" "On his way to Australia."