"God has been very good to me in giving me such kind friends as my lady and Mrs. Alwright, and such a home as this at the farm, and I will not be ungrateful. I will make the most of my lessons as long as I am allowed to have them. I will do my very best with my spinning, and see if I cannot draw as fine and even a thread as my mother. I found out long ago that the way to make work interesting was to do one's very best with it. God has always been good to me, and what a comfort it is to think that He can never be anything else than good—that whatever changes come, He will be always the same." Winifred was likely to have need of all the comfort she could find in such thoughts, for many sad changes were before her. One morning, as she entered Mrs. Alwright's room, she found that discreet spinster surrounded by a wonderful litter of linen and other garments, busily engaged in mending some very precious lace of her lady's. "News, Winifred!" said Mrs. Alwright. "Good news or bad?" asked Winifred. "Both good and bad! Good news of Mr. Arthur, and bad news for you and me, my dear!" "Mr. Arthur!" asked Winifred, her heart beating so fast as almost to choke her. "Is he safe?" "Yes, my dear. After many troubles and perils, he escaped in a ship from Biddeford, and got safe and well through France into Holland. He says he wrote a letter, and sent it on shore just as they were about to sail, but we never received it. My lady says you are to come up to her by-and-by, and she will tell you all about the matter herself." "That is good news, indeed!" said Winifred. "But I wonder why my lady never received his first letter?" "No doubt it was intrusted to some careless person who lost it," replied Mrs. Alwright. "There is no end to the evils brought about by carelessness, as you will do well to remember." "And what is the bad news, Mrs. Alwright? I hope nothing has happened to Sir Edward." "Why, yes, something has happened, though not anything which can be called a misfortune, exactly. His majesty has been pleased to give Sir Edward some office about the court. And we—that is my lady and I, and the butler and the coachman, and Betty Cook—are all going up to London to live." Winifred's heart sank fathoms deep. My lady and Mrs. Alwright going away from the Hall! No more lessons in embroidery, no more reading out of the "Chronicle" and the "Arcadia," no more pleasant hours spent in gathering sweet herbs and flowers in the garden, or helping in the still-room and store-room! No more hours spent with my lady in reading and talking about the Bible and the history books—and above all, no further chance of hearing from Arthur Carew!