It was impossible that such a grand event as Susan’s visit to the Abbey could long remain unknown to Barbara Case and her gossiping maid. They watched eagerly for the moment of her return, that they might satisfy their curiosity. “There she is, I declare, just come into her garden,” cried Bab; “I’ll run in and get it all out of her in a minute.” Bab could descend, without shame, whenever it suited her purposes, from the height of insolent pride to the lowest meanness of fawning familiarity. Susan was gathering some marigolds and some parsley for her mother’s broth. “So, Susan,” said Bab, who came close up to her before she perceived it, “how goes the world with you to-day?” “My mother is rather better to-day, she says, ma’am—thank you,” replies Susan, coldly but civilly. “_Ma’am_! dear, how polite we are grown of a sudden!” cried Bab, winking at her maid. “One may see you’ve been in good company this morning—hey, Susan? Come, let’s hear about it.” “Did you see the ladies themselves, or was it only the housekeeper sent for you?” said the maid. “What room did you go into?” continued Bab. “Did you see Miss Somers, or Sir Arthur?” “Miss Somers.” “La! she saw Miss Somers! Betty, I must hear about it. Can’t you stop gathering those things for a minute, and chat a bit with us, Susan?” “I can’t stay, indeed, Miss Barbara; for my mother’s broth is just wanted, and I’m in a hurry.” Susan ran home. “Lord, her head is full of broth now,” said Bab to her maid; “and she has not a word for herself, though she has been abroad. My papa may well call her _Simple Susan_; for simple she is, and simple she will be, all the world over. For my part, I think she’s little better than a downright simpleton. But, however, simple or not, I’ll get what I want out of her. She’ll be able to speak, maybe, when she has settled the grand matter of the broth. I’ll step in and ask to see her mother, that will put her in a good humour in a trice.” Barbara followed Susan into the cottage, and found her occupied with the grand affair of the broth. “Is it ready?” said Bab, peeping into the pot that was over the fire. “Dear, how savoury it smells! I’ll wait till you go in with it to your mother; for I must ask her how she does myself.” “Will you please to sit down then, miss,” said Simple Susan, with a smile; for at this instant she forgot the guinea-hen; “I have but just put the parsley into the broth; but it soon will be ready.” During this interval Bab employed herself, much to her own satisfaction, in cross-questioning Susan. She was rather provoked indeed that she could not learn exactly how each of the ladies was dressed, and what there was to be for dinner at the Abbey; and she was curious beyond measure to find out what Miss Somers meant, by saying that she would call at Mr. Price’s cottage at six o’clock in the evening. “What do you think she could mean?”