“Oh, ma’am,” interrupted Mrs. Price, “I’m quite well. Joy, I think, has made me quite well.” “Then,” said Miss Somers, “I hope you will be able to come out on your daughter’s birthday, which, I hear, is the 25th of this month. Make haste and get quite well before that day; for my brother intends that all the lads and lassies of the village shall have a dance on Susan’s birthday.” “Yes,” said Sir Arthur, “and I hope on that day, Susan, you will be very happy with your little friends upon their play-green. I shall tell them that it is your good conduct which has obtained it for them; and if you have anything to ask, any little favour for any of your companions, which we can grant, now ask, Susan. These ladies look as if they would not refuse you anything that is reasonable; and, I think, you look as if you would not ask anything unreasonable.” “Sir,” said Susan, after consulting her mother’s eyes, “there is, to be sure, a favour I should like to ask; it is for Rose.” “Well, I don’t know who Rose is,” said Sir Arthur, smiling; “but, go on.” “Ma’am, you have seen her, I believe; she is a very good girl, indeed,” said Mrs. Price. “And works very neatly, indeed,” continued Susan, eagerly, to Miss Somers; “and she and her mother heard you were looking out for someone to wait upon you.” “Say no more,” said Miss Somers; “your wish is granted. Tell Rose to come to the Abbey, to-morrow morning, or, rather, come with her yourself; for our housekeeper, I know, wants to talk to you about a certain cake. She wishes, Susan, that you should be the maker of the cake for the dance; and she has good things ready looked out for it already, I know. It must be large enough for everybody to have a slice, and the housekeeper will ice it for you. I only hope your cake will be as good as your bread. Fare ye well.” How happy are those who bid farewell to a whole family, silent with gratitude, who will bless them aloud when they are far out of hearing! “How do I wish, now,” said Farmer Price, “and it’s almost a sin for one that has had such a power of favours done him, to wish for anything more; but how I _do_ wish, wife, that our good friend, the harper was only here at this time. It would do his old, warm heart good. Well, the best of it is, we shall be able next year, when he comes his rounds, to pay him his money with thanks, being all the time, and for ever, as much obliged to him as if we kept it. I long, so I do, to see him in this house again, drinking, as he did, just in this spot, a glass of Susan’s mead, to her very good health.” “Yes,” said Susan, “and the next time he comes, I can give him one of my guinea-hen’s eggs, and I shall show my lamb, Daisy.” “True, love,” said her mother, “and he will play that tune and sing that pretty ballad. Where is it? for I have not finished it.” “Rose ran away with it, mother, but I’ll step after her, and bring it back to you this minute,” said Susan.