"I'll tell you what, Mistress Joyce, you are not to judge every one by yourself," said Dame Evans, sharply. "You won't find any slat-holes or filthy, dirty cupboards about my place, or my sister's either, for ill smells and sickness to lurk in. It is my opinion that if folks were as careful as they should be to keep clean and decent, we should not have so much of these fevers!" A remark in which the good woman was undoubtedly correct. "Well, well, dame, we will not quarrel about that!" said Mrs. Joyce. "What are you going to do about your niece?" "I'm sure I don't know!" said Dame Evans, pettishly. "I don't quite like to leave her behind, but I don't see how we are to take her, now that she has been exposed to the fever." "Yes, and so bad as they have it, too!" said Mrs. Joyce, who seemed to take delight in tormenting her neighbor. "Their servants have all run away, men and maids and all, except old Sarah Ashwell and the blackamoor who waits on Sir John." "Winifred must do as she thinks right," said Master Evans, who had not spoken before. "If the family is in such straits, I do not believe she will leave them, nor can I blame her if she does not. Nevertheless she must have the choice of going with us or staying behind, as she thinks best. Perhaps, when she knows we are going to the Stonehill farm, she may change her mind." "And that is true, too!" said Dame Evans. "I will see her this afternoon, and I doubt not I can bring her to reason. She has been well brought up—not like some people's children, left to go to rack and ruin, while their mother goes about the street to show her finery." Dame Evans always bestowed these hints and innuendoes upon her easy-tempered neighbor in great abundance: nevertheless she would have felt herself much aggrieved if Dame Joyce had not run in at least every other day to give her the news of the street and the city. Dame Evans dressed herself with extra care for walking, and, having set the little girls their tasks of knitting and sewing, she sallied out and took her way to Sir John Corbet's house, fortifying her mind with all the arguments she could think of wherewith to overcome Winifred's obstinacy. She would not come within the door, but remained in the court while Jack called Winifred out of the housekeeper's room. "There, don't come too near me, child!" said Dame Evans, shrinking back. "I suppose you have just come from that poor young lady's sickbed." "Yes, I have been over her all day," replied Winifred. "Will you come into the house, aunt, or will you walk into the garden?" "Let us go into the garden," said Dame Evans, though she felt a great desire to see the fine house of which she had heard so much. "We shall be in the fresh air at least." Winifred opened the gate which led into the garden, and conducted her aunt to a pleasant little arbor at the opposite end from the house.