“Lieutenant Thomerton! O yeth, yeth,” said Mrs. Dibble, seizing the note; “I understand.” “It seems so,” said Bales. “She married a lord, O yeth. Me and Chrissy (poor lost dear!)--me and Chrissy went to see the wedding at Hanover Square, and grand it was to be sure, though I have heard my pa say that when he was married to my ma,--it is a good many yearth ago now,--that they walked on flowers and carpets for a quarter of a mile.” Then suddenly remembering that she had serious cause for grief, Mrs. Dibble put her apron to her eyes and began to cry afresh. “Oh, you know all about it then; when will you be ready?” “Thath hard to say. I shall have a great deal to do to get ready, and I thent a few things to the wash, which it hath not been my custom to do of late, and I am sure----” “Can you be ready in an hour?” asked Bales, interrupting her. “An hour! Abthurd: you mutht be mad to think of thutch a thing, thir. I wath thinking of a week at leatht before I could be ready to appear in noble society at a castle, though when I wath a girl----” “Never mind when you were a girl, Mrs. Dibble, just think of your husband; he is in prison, and perhaps you can help him; Montem Castle is close to Brazencrook.” “O dear! what a hard-hearted man you mutht be to be thure, to remind me of that again just ath I wath a trying to think that all your newth wath not bad newth.” And then Mrs. Dibble began to cry once more for decency’s sake. “Will you be ready in the morning?--however you must; so there’s an end. Lady Verner wished that you would come to-day. You don’t suppose you are going to sit in the drawing-room, and all that sort of thing, with an earl and countess, eh? You will be the housekeeper’s visitor. Come, no more nonsense; say you will be ready in the morning.” “If it ith for the thake of my poor forlorn mithguided husband,” said Mrs. Dibble, sighing, “I mutht, of course. I will, I will, thir.”