“Well, thou sees,” continued Sylvanus, “Mary Jerram drove up one day, ordered her horses to be taken out, and laid herself out for a long day of it. She stayed all morning; she stayed dinner. The master came home, and, notwithstanding, she stayed tea. She sat and talked, and talked, and particularly directed her discourse to master. At length, as it was getting late, master said to her, ‘Mary, although thou hast left Friends, I suppose thou still remembers something of Scripture.’ “‘To be sure,’ replied Mary Jerram. ‘Remember Scripture! What do you mean? I am not so disorderly in my walk as to forget that.’ “‘Then,’ said master, ‘thou knowest that the Scriptures say, “If thine enemy hunger, give him meat, if he thirst give him drink;” but I don’t think it says anything about lodgings.’ “Thou shouldst have seen the effect of that,” said Sylvanus, highly delighted. “Since then Mary Jerram has not found her way to Fair Manor again.” Thorsby was never without some jocose talk of this kind at his visits to the Grange. But time rolled on, and there were rumours that the charge of being a wild young man, which the Friends had made against him, was not entirely without foundation. His old jovial companions had drawn him again too much into their society and convivialities. Letty made no complaints on this head, though as time went on her own family thought they saw occasionally a more careful expression on her countenance. Nothing, however, could exceed the affectionate terms on which they seemed to be; nothing could betoken more love and admiration than Thorsby’s manner to his wife. There appeared no reserve, no concealment between them, and the Woodburns thought there could be no serious cause of complaint betwixt two so obviously happy. But time still rolled on, and in due course a little son was born. With what pride Letty on her next visit to the Grange showed the newest Woodburn to the grandfather,—mother and sister and George had already taken their view of the miniature youth in Castleborough. With what pride she told her father that she was charmed with the opportunity of giving the name of Leonard—Leonard Woodburn Thorsby—to a fresh claimant of the honours and virtues of the house! Thorsby was himself no less proud of the young aspirant to manhood. It was, according to him, the finest, the largest, the cleverest child of its age that he had ever seen; but, in fact, before he had never paid much attention to very young children, but seemed to think them something very like fat caterpillars, with apple-dumpling faces.