"Yes," Joyce said. "We, that is, Mr. Arundel and I, met the man who had been brought before the magistrates at Wells, and he knocked down Mr. Arundel, and----" "I heard of that. Poor Susan Priday, the man's daughter, has been a good girl, and has had a sad life indeed." "I felt so sorry for her," Joyce said, "and I should like to help her. She must be so unhappy with a bad father. If mother would let me, I should like to have her in the kitchen; but I know she would not allow it." Mrs. More smiled. "I suppose your good mother thinks the education in our school has spoiled Susan for service. "Mother is a good mistress," Joyce ventured to say, "and cares for the maids, as maids, but she has a notion that people who have to earn their bread, ought not to be able to read." "Ah! that is a notion many have shared with your mother. Why, when the great Edward Colston first proposed to begin the good work of education in Bristol, he was voted by the Mayor and Aldermen as a dangerous person, likely to turn the sons of the poor into vipers, who should sting the rich when once they were raised out of ignorance. All that feeling has passed away in Bristol, as it will pass away in time in the country districts. Edward Colston's name is held now in honour; his school sends out useful members of society year by year. Then there is Robert Raikes at Gloucester, how his work has taken root. So I comfort myself with thinking that before this century has counted out its last year, Hannah More's schools for the sons of the soil under Mendip, will have won their way humbly but steadily to swell the great tide of progress which is bearing us on its breast. It is a wonderful age!" she continued. "God has shown us marvellous things. Steam has become our servant, and its concentrated force seems likely to move kingdoms, and verify the prophecy that men shall go to and fro on the earth. Then in our cities coal-gas is captured, and turns night into day. Who shall say what hidden forces yet lie undiscovered, needing only the brain to conceive, and the hand of some Watt to demonstrate the power, lying concealed in the mysteries of God's natural kingdom. Who was with you on Mendip when the rough fellow attacked you?" "Mr. Arundel," Joyce said, in a low voice, the colour rising to her face. Hannah More smiled, and said: "Was he your _preux chevalier_?" Joyce blushed a still rosier red. "I don't understand," she said, simply. "Your devoted knight!" "Of course, how stupid; but I so seldom hear French spoken; and I expect Ralph and I have a strange pronunciation." "French pronunciation can only be acquired by much speaking; and now finish the story of your knight."