"M'ph!" murmured Mistress Sheppard, cogitatively tapping her plump finger tips on the table. "'Tis a good name, and a proud, is Howard. But your whitest flock's got its black sheep, they say. And now I think on't, 'twas but t'other day--though I don't at this minute recollect the hows and the wheres--somebody that was in here, was tellin' of me that there wasn't a daring profligate among all the quality like this same Howard of Escrick, an' not a shred o' principle or honesty in him." "An' what's all that to us?" said Sheppard, with a feeble attempt at bravado, as he marshalled the tankards on his tray. "The best thing you can do, is to give me the bottle o' Canary he's ordered; an' be quick about it. There's a good woman. Anyhow you've no call to complain of his honesty; for hasn't he paid his reckonin' a'ready? See if he hasn't." And Sheppard triumphantly threw down a gold piece. "Now what do you take him for?" "A knave!" said Mistress Sheppard, pocketing the gold, however, "or else a fool; for he lacks credit, or wit, or both one and t'other who settles for his goods afore he's got 'em. There--there; be off with thee. Take em' what they want, and tell 'em the sooner they're all off these premises the better I shall like 'em. Bless the man! What's come to thee, now? Thy hands are shakin' like froze syllabub. Spillin' the ale all over the tray. Here--give it me; I'll carry it in." [Sidenote: Master Sheppard in a hurry.] Sheppard, however, was too quick for her. Ordinarily the less he bestirred himself, and the more his bustling active-minded wife did for him, even to the length of waiting personally on their guests, the better pleased he was; but now he absolutely pounced upon the tray, and carried it off at double quick trot, leaving Mistress Sheppard to stand looking after him in open-mouthed amazement, as he disappeared, closing the door of the guest-parlour carefully behind him. "Hark! what was that?" Her ears, she thought, must have deceived her, rarely as they were given to it. Or did the lock of the door click and the bolts scrape in their grooves as if stealthily moved? Mistress Sheppard stepped tiptoe across to the door, and noiselessly grasping its handle, she turned it and pushed at it, but to no purpose. "I like not that," she said to herself, when after a second attempt she turned away, and resuming her post among her bottles and cups, sat with knitted brows and eyes keenly riveted on the sturdy old wainscoted walls opposite as if she would fain have penetrated to the scene they hid. "I like it not," and then she set her arms akimbo, and gave a prolonged inquiring sniff. "And never a suspicion of tobacco neither," and deeper and deeper gathered the frowns. "That bodes no good neither; for men must be ill at ease with themselves indeed, before they forget to make chimneys o' their mouths. And not a sound," and she held her breath and listened intently. "Not a sound!"