sh
to _know_--only to _know!_ I think my mirror would tell me something
about my brothers, and what they are to do in the world. And I am
sure it would tell me that God is ordering this for some great end.
But I am weak and impatient, and, if I knew, I could be so much
braver!" She ended abruptly, and for a moment or two all the sisters
were silent.

"Come, Nancy," said Hetty at length. "Patty will wish for a harp,
for certain"--Patty's burning desire to possess one was as notorious
in the family as her absolute lack of ear for music--"and Emmy will
ask for a new pair of shoes, if she is wise." Emilia tucked a foot
out of sight under her skirt.

"But I don't understand this game," put in Kezzy. "A moment ago it
was _Blue Beard_, and now it seems to be _Beauty and the Beast_.
Which is it?"

"We may need Molly's mirror to tell us," Hetty answered lightly: and
with that she glanced up as a shadow darkened the golden sky above
the mound, and a voice addressed the sisters all. "Good evening,
young ladies!"

CHAPTER V.

A broad-shouldered man looked down on them from the summit of the
knoll, which he had climbed on its westward side; a tradesman to all
appearance, clad in a dusty, ill-fitting suit. So far as they could
judge--for he stood with the waning light at his back--he was not
ill-featured; but, by his manner of mopping his brow, he was most
ungracefully hot, and Molly declared ever afterwards that his thick
worsted stockings, seen against the ball of the sun, gave his calves
a hideous hairiness. She used to add that he was more than half
drunk. His manner of accosting them--half uneasy, half familiar--
froze the Wesley sisters.

"Good evening, young ladies! And nice and cool you look, I will say.
Can any of you tell me if Parson Wesley's at home?"

"He is not," Emilia answered. "He has gone towards Bawtry."

"Well now, that's what the maid told me at the parsonage: but I
thought, maybe, 'twas a trick--a sort of slip-out-by-the-back and
not-at-home to a creditor. I've heard of parsons playing that game,
and no harm to their conscience, because no lie told."

"Sir!" Emilia rose and faced him.

"Oh, no offence, miss! I believe _you_; and for that matter the
wench seemed fair-spoken enough, and gave me a drink of cider.
'Tis the matter of a debt, you see." He drew a scrap of dirty
paper from his pocket. "Twelve-seventeen-six, for repairs done to
Wroote Parsonage; new larder, fifteen; l