"Yes, I think so. Nobody about here has seen Master Arthur Carew for many years, and so far as I can hear, no one has mentioned his name in connection with the Duke of Monmouth. Indeed, there was a rumor some time ago that he had died in foreign parts." "He went by a different name, I know," said Winifred. "He called himself Fullerton." "I am glad he had at least that much sense," said Master Evans. "It was a most mad undertaking for all concerned." "Master Arthur only came along because of his affection for the duke," replied Winifred, feeling somehow that she did not like to hear Arthur blamed. "That may be some excuse, but it does not justify him. We have no right to let our friends drag us into doing what we know to be foolish and wrong. However, there is no help for it now. I think we have hit upon the best way of managing the matter: Mr. Arthur can come as if from the Hall, and if any one sees him, he will be taken for some poor scholar whom my lady has been helping on his way. You had better tell my lady all this yourself. I should say, the sooner the matter was managed the better." As her grandfather advised, Winifred disclosed the plan to Lady Peckham, who arrived on her pony the next day, followed by a serving-man bearing a good-sized bundle, and dismounted to see Jack. Jack was very sensible of the honor, and also of the cakes my lady brought him, and listened with all due respect and submission to the lecture she read him upon doing as he was bid and keeping the fifth commandment. "And now, Winifred, if you are ready to guide me to the cottage, I think we will dismiss Thomas," said her ladyship, rising. "I want him to ride into Bridgewater and do some errands there. Mrs. Alwright will give you your commissions, Thomas, and it is full time you were on your way." Thomas was well enough pleased to be excused from attending his lady to the cottage of Dame Sprat, whom, like many other people, he looked upon as a kind of white witch, or at least as knowing more than any Christian ought to know. He made his reverence, therefore, and departed on his errand, and Lady Peckham prepared to mount her horse once more. "Whose voice is that?" she exclaimed, starting, as a man's voice was heard without. "It is surely not your grandfather's!" Jack saw the start and the change of color, and treasured them up as some sort of excuse for his own terrors of the day before—terrors of which he was more and more ashamed the more he thought of them. He little guessed what cause for alarm the poor lady had, since, of course, no one had dared to let him into the secret. "It is only my father, madam," said Winifred. "He came home yesterday, and understanding that your ladyship was to be here to-day, he desired to pay his duty to you."