ge, and tried to pull her scattered wits together and think out
some way of untangling the skein of difficulty with which she had to
deal. The danger was pressing, and if she had been herself the poor
lovesick girl who lay a mile away, stifling her sobs lest they should
reach her father's ears, and vainly calling on her lover's name, she
would scarcely have been more miserable.

One thing was clear. Dick must be warned, and his journey to London
postponed by some device. He might lie hidden for a day or two in
Birmingham, and Julia be smuggled there and secretly married. It was no
time for half measures, and whatever was done should be done quickly and
decisively. At this idea, at once romantic and practical, Mrs. Jenny's
spirits revived.

'Samson 'll disown Julia, I know. Her 'll never see a penny o' his
money. An' I doubt as Abel Reddy 'll do the same wi' Dick. He's just
as hard and bitter as th' other, on'y quieter wi' it. Well, they shan't
want while I'm alive, nor after my death neither, and Dick ud make his
own way with nobody's help. I'll write to him, and find somebody to take
the letter. I won't go myself, at this hour o' the day.'

She concocted a letter and sealed it, and putting on her bonnet sallied
out to find a messenger. Fate was so far propitious that scarce
a hundred yards from her door she met Ichabod Bubb, bound for his
morning's work at Perry Hall Farm. Ichabod was bent and gnarled and
twisted now, stiff in all his joints and slow of movement, but his
quaint visage bore the same look of uncertain and rather wistful humour
which had marked it in earlier times.

'Morning, mum,' he said, with a stiff-necked nod at Mrs. Jenny.

'Good-mornin', Mr. Bubb,' said the old lady. Ichabod beamed at this
sudden and unexpected ceremonial of title, and straightened his back.

'You 'm afoot early, mum.'

'Why, yes. But it's such a beautiful morning; it's a shaame to lie abed
a time like this.'

'So many folks, so many ways o' thinkin',' said the ancient one; 'not
as it's a sin as I often commits, nayther, 'cos why, I don't get the
chance.'

'I've got a bit o' business as I want done, Mr. Bubb,' said Mrs. Busker,
'if ye don't mind earnin' a shillin'.'

'Why,' returned Ichabod, 'I don't know as I've got any, not to say
rewted, objection to makin' a shillin'.'

'You're goin' to the farm?' Ichabod nodded. 'Then I want you to take
this note to Mr. Richard. But mind, you must get it to him private.
Nobody el