"I think I hear some one coming up-stairs!" said Winifred, fearing lest the cry should commence again. Mrs. Alwright started up and wiped her eyes vigorously. "Open the door, Winifred, while I wash my face," said she. "It will be only Betty, coming to say that our dinner is ready. You are to stay and dine with me, my dear, and then you shall help me to make the conserve of hips, and I will send a pot of it to your good mother against winter comes." But Betty had more to tell. The herd-boy had come up to say that Winifred was needed at home, because her brother had fallen from a tree and hurt himself very badly. Also Betty gave notice that Colonel Kirke was come to dine and sup with Sir Edward, and Mrs. Alwright was wanted to attend to the pastry and other additions to the dinner-which the presence of such an important guest rendered necessary. "Dear me!" said Mrs. Alwright. "How things do happen all together! I hope that unlucky boy has broken no bones, but it would be just like him. I often wonder why boys should be made at all, they are such plagues. One can do something with girls in the way of needlework and giving them dolls to play with, but men ought to be made already grown up, and then they are plagues enough. You must go home at once, Winifred, without waiting to finish your work, and mind you remember what I have told you. Your mother will need you, for at such times even little girls can be of use, if they are not idle and careless, as too many are. Betty, why do you stand staring and listening there at the door, instead of getting the fowls ready for the spit? Go about your work directly, and let me find the chickens neatly dressed when I come down-stairs. Come into the store-room with me, Winifred, and I will give you a basket and medicine for the poor woman you spoke of." Mrs. Alwright's store-room was a model of its kind. The stone floor was as white as hands could make it, and the wood-work shone with much rubbing. Every inch of wall was covered with cupboards, shelves, and drawers, containing piles upon piles of fine linen, much of it of Mrs. Alwright's own spinning, and jars, pots, and boxes innumerable filled with all sorts of good things, while hams, sausages, bundles of sweet herbs, and bunches of onions and garlic dangled from the ceiling. It was evident to the most unpractised eye that all these good things were presided over by a vigilant and capable guardian, for nothing was out of place—everything was labelled, covered, and secured in the most approved manner, and not a stray crumb was left lying anywhere to tempt the mice. Mrs. Alwright took down a good-sized basket and began filling it, taking the opportunity, which, indeed, she seldom lost, of delivering a little moral lecture for Winifred's benefit.