She went indoors and busied herself with preparations for the most substantial meal of the week. Alfred quickened his pace as he approached the small stable which held his two serviceable horses and the van which plied regularly between Nether-Applewhite and Old Sarum. He, too, on entering the stable, paused to survey his possessions, but not with the same complacency which might have been seen upon his mother's face. Alfred loved his horses, and his roomy van balked dearer to him than he would have cared to admit, certainly as dear as the full-length Reynolds portrait in the dining-room of Pomfret Court was to the Squire. Both Sir Geoffrey and he knew that portrait and van must be sacrificed upon the altar of necessity. Sir Geoffrey needed twenty thousand pounds to reduce a crippling mortgage; Alfred, if he intended to keep and improve a good business, must advance with the times to the rattle of a motor. And, of late, whenever his mind had grappled with this insistent problem, he had noticed that the old van creaked more than usual, as if in protest. Alfred fed his horses, patted their shining necks, and went into the cottage to "clean up." Splashing mightily, he smelt the beef-and-kidney pudding. Five minutes afterwards, Mrs. Yellam said grace. Mother and son ate in silence till the meal was nearly over. Then Mrs. Yellam asked a question: "What be the name, Alferd, o' the new maid over to Vicarage?" "Fancy Broomfield." "Fancy! Wherever did she come by such a finical name as that?" "I don't know, Mother." Mrs. Yellam continued, in a slightly aggressive tone: "I never was one to hold with queer onChristian names. It's silly, too, to call girls by names o' flowers. Look at Lily Pavey!" "I never do," affirmed Alfred. "Dark-complected, and no better than she should be. An' that there Rose Mucklow--! More like a gert carrot, seemin'ly." Alfred, having enjoyed "advantages," did not use the dialect of Wiltshire, seldom heard now except from the elderly villagers. As became a carrier accustomed to pick his way through country lanes, he seldom argued with his mother, partly because he knew that her tongue was sharper than his, partly, also, because he travelled, mentally, along lines of less resistance. On this occasion, he said curtly: "I like Fancy." "The name or the maid?" asked his mother quickly. "Both. The name seems to match the maid." "Why, Alferd, whatever do 'ee know about her?" "I brought her from Salisbury. A rare talker; she sat beside me, she did, and talked free and pleasant, as--as a throstle sings." His mother eyed him sharply. Alfred, as a rule, disdained flowers of speech. She proceeded more warily: "If so be as you know all about her, let's hear what's to tell. I'll say this, she behaves herself in church."