"I suppose we may say, in the words of the harvest hymn, that 'all is safely gathered in,'" remarked Mr. Churchward, as he drank his tea. "A good harvest, the work-folk tell me--or, rather, their children." He lifted his protuberant, short-sighted and rather silly eyes upward, to the conventional angle of piety. "A very good harvest, I believe," admitted Philip, "and good all round--so the missis brought word from market last week." "I trust the operations of sale and barter have been all that you could wish," added Mr. Churchward. "Nothing to grumble at--very good markets," declared Philip, "though my partner never will admit it. Still, figures speak, and though she may pretend to lose her temper, I always know. Her pretences ban't like the real thing." "No pretence about it when Aunt Hepsy's in a right-down tantara of a rage," said Susan. "An unusual name--a Scriptural name," remarked the schoolmaster. "Has the significance of the name of 'Hephzibah' ever struck your mind, neighbour? It means, 'my delight is in her.'" "So I've been told," answered the husband, drily. Indeed, his tone silenced the other, and, perceiving that he had apparently struck a wrong note of suggestiveness, Philip made haste to speak again. "Nobody ever had a more suitable name, I'm sure. This house wouldn't be this house without her." Jarratt Weekes and Sarah Jane now returned, and the subject was dropped by implicit understanding. "I hope your great son, William, be well," said Sarah to the schoolmaster. "Very well indeed, I thank you," he answered. "I could wish he had a little of his parent's zeal for toil, but he lacks it." "Why for did he give up his shop work?" she asked. "To be honest, it was rather undignified. For my son to fill that position was not quite respectful to me. He insisted upon it, but after a time, as I expected, found the duties irksome. I was not sorry when he changed his mind and returned to his painting." "All the same, he's eating his head off now," said Mary Churchward. "I shouldn't say that," declared William's father. "He helps me with the elder scholars. I have little doubt that some outlet for his artistic energies may soon be forthcoming. He has even an idea of going abroad." "Do they still call him the 'Infant'?" asked Mr. Weekes. "I believe so. How time flies with those who work as we do! _Tempus fugit_, I'm sure. It seems only yesterday that he was really an infant. In these arms the physician placed him some hours after his birth, with the remark that never had he introduced a fatter boy into the world." "So I've heard you say," answered the huckster. "Give Mary another cup of tea, please, Sarah Jane."