The supper smoked upon the table when they reached the farm-house. It had been well earned, and it was enjoyed, both in a physical and a social sense, to the very extent of the guests' capacities. The King sat at the head of the table, and Gilbert Potter--forced into that position by Mark--at the foot. Sally Fairthorn insisted on performing her duty as handmaiden, although, as Betsy Lavender again and again declared, her room was better than her help. Sally's dark eyes fairly danced and sparkled; her full, soft lips shone with a scarlet bloom; she laughed with a wild, nervous joyousness, and yet rushed about haunted with a fearful dread of suddenly bursting into tears. Her ways were so well known, however, that a little extra impulsiveness excited no surprise. Martha Deane was the only person who discovered what had taken place. As the girls were putting on their hats and cloaks in the bedroom, Sally drew her into the passage, kissed her a number of times with passionate vehemence, and then darted off without saying a word. Gilbert rode home through the splendid moonlight, in the small hours of the morning, with a light heart, and Mark's money-belt buckled around his waist. CHAPTER XX. GILBERT ON THE ROAD TO CHESTER. Being now fully prepared to undertake his journey to Chester, Gilbert remembered his promise to Alfred Barton. As the subject had not again been mentioned between them,--probably owing to the excitement produced by Sandy Flash's visit to Kennett Square, and its consequences,--he felt bound to inform Barton of his speedy departure, and to renew his offer of service. He found the latter in the field, assisting Giles, who was hauling home the sheaves of corn-fodder in a harvest-wagon. The first meeting of the two men did not seem to be quite agreeable to either. Gilbert's suspicions had been aroused, although he could give them no definite form, and Barton shrank from any reference to what had now become a very sore topic. “Giles,” said the latter, after a moment of evident embarrassment, “I guess you may drive home with that load, and pitch it off; I'll wait for you here.” When the rustling wain had reached a convenient distance, Gilbert began,-- “I only wanted to say that I'm going to Chester tomorrow.” “Oh, yes!” Barton exclaimed, “about that money? I suppose you want all o' yours?” “It's as I expected. But you said you could borrow elsewhere, and send it by me.” “The fact is,” said Barton, “that I've both borrowed and sent. I'm obliged to you, all the same, Gilbert; the will's as good as the deed, you know; but I got the money from--well, from a friend, who was about going down on his own business, and so that stone killed both my birds. I ought to ha' sent you word, by rights.” “Is your _friend_,” Gilbert asked, “a safe and trusty man?” “Safe enough, I guess--a little wild, at times, maybe; but he's not such a fool as to lose what he'd never have a chance of getting again.”