leys
would do most of them a power of good. Well, well, well, young man,
thou speakest sound sense. Thou shouldst prosper in thy business.

"Now, girl, show me the rest of the house, for I must needs be
getting home ere long. I shall weary my old bones with all this
gadding to and fro."

Gertrude was willing enough to obey. The house was hardly changed
from the time she had left it, save that all which was faded and
worn had been replaced and furbished anew, and the whole place made
sweet and wholesome, and as clean and bright as hands could make
it. Gertrude would have preferred a plainer and simpler abode, more
like that of her neighbours; but she had not had the heart to undo
all her mother's dainty handiwork, and Reuben had thought nothing
too good for his bride.

Lady Scrope gibed and jeered a little, but not unkindly. She knew
all the family history by this time, and how that Gertrude was not
responsible for the luxuries with which her life would be
surrounded.

"Go to, child, go to; I am no judge over thee. What matters it a
few years earlier or later? It began in Shakespeare's time, as you
may read if you will, and it grows worse every generation. Soon the
shopmen and traders will be the fine gentlemen of the land, and we
may hope for the pickings and leavings of their tables. What does
it matter to me? I shall not be troubled by it. And if I be not
troubled thereby, what matter if all the world goes mad?

"Now fare you well, young folks; and thou, good Master Builder,
thank Heaven for a good and dutiful daughter, for they grow not on
every hedge in these graceless days.

"See me to my coach, young man, if thou canst leave devouring thy
wife with thine eyes for so much as a minute.

"Poor fools! poor fools! both of you.

"Give me a kiss, maiden--nay, mistress I must call thee now. Be a
good child, and be not too meek. Remember the fate of the hapless
Griselda."

Nodding her head and shaking her finger, Lady Scrope vanished down
the stairs upon Reuben's arm; and Gertrude, moved beyond her powers
of self restraint by all she had gone through, flung herself into
her father's arms, and the two mingled together their tears of
thankfulness and joy.

CHAPTER XVI. A FLAMING CITY.

Many happy months passed away, and the great city began to forget
the terrible calamity through which it had passed. There was a
little fear at first when the summer set in exceptionally hot and
dry--very much as it had