"Bow-wow! Bow-wow-wow! Bow-ow-ow-ow-ow!"

"Whatever!" said the Justice to the "black thing" which was careering
about him, apparently on every side of him at once, leaping into the air
as high as his head, trying to lick his face, wagging not only a
feathery tail, but a whole body, laughing all over a delighted face, and
generally behaving itself in a rapturously ecstatic manner. "Art thou
rejoicing for Queen Elizabeth too? and whose dog art thou? Didst come--
tarry, I do think--nay--ay, it is--I verily believe 'tis old Jack
himself!"

"Of course it is!" said Jack's eyes and tail, and every bit of Jack,
executing a fresh caper of intense satisfaction.

"Why, then they must be come!" exclaimed the Justice, and set off for
the front door, pursued by Jack. It is needless to say that Jack won
the race by considerable lengths.

"Oh, here's Uncle Anthony!" cried Pandora's voice, as he came in sight.
"Jack, you've been and told him--good Jack!"

There is no need to describe the confused, heart-warm greetings on all
sides--how kisses were exchanged, and hands were clasped, and sentences
were begun that were never finished, and Jack assisted at all in turn.
But when the first welcomes were over, and the travellers had changed
their dress, and they sat down to supper, hastily got up by Margery's
willing hands, there was opportunity to exchange real information on
both sides.

"And where have you been, now, all this while?" asked the Justice. "I
never knew, and rather wished not to guess."

"At Shardeford, for the first part; then some months with Frances, and
lately in a farm-house under Ingleborough--folks that Frances knew, good
Gospellers, but far from any priest. And how have matters gone here?"

"There's nought, methinks, you'll be sorry to hear of, save only the
burnings at Canterbury. Seven from this part--Mistress Benden, and
Mistress Final, Fishcock, White, Pardue, Emmet Wilson, and Sens
Bradbridge. They all suffered a few weeks after your departing."

All held their breath till the list was over. Pandora was the first to
speak.

"Oh, my poor little Christie!"

"Your poor little Christie, Mistress Dorrie, is like to be less poor
than she was. There is a doctor of medicine come to dwell in Cranbrook,
that seems to have somewhat more skill, in her case at least, than our
old apothecary; and you shall find the child going about the house now.
He doth not despair, quoth he, that she may yet walk for