tly Mother Hubbard had been up early and
had worked with a will, and I was touched by this evidence of her
faith, and glad that I had proved worthy of it.

"But what will Farmer Goodenough say?" I asked jocularly, as we
discussed the appetising ham and eggs which she had prepared in her own
kitchen.

"Reuben? Oh, I take no notice of him, love. He called out as he
passed, whilst I was in the garden this morning, that I was to remember
that he had not yet let you the house, and that we might never see your
face again; but I said, 'For shame! Reuben Goodenough,' though I will
admit I was glad to see you, love. And now we'll just go in together
and get everything made tidy. Bless you! I'm glad you've come. I
think the Lord must have sent you to cheer a lonely old woman."

CHAPTER II

GRACE MEETS THE SQUIRE

I have spent my first Sunday in Windyridge, and have made a new
acquaintance. I believe I shall soon feel at home here, for the
villagers do not appear to resent the presence of a stranger, and there
is no sign of the Cranford spirit, perhaps because there is an entire
lack of the Cranford society.

My adventure befell me as I walked back from church in the morning. It
was too far for Mother Hubbard to accompany me to Fawkshill if she had
wished to do so, but she has no leanings in the direction of the
Establishment, being, as I have discovered, a staunch dissenter. She
has asked me to go with her to the little Methodist chapel one day, but
I put her off with a caress.

I was as full of the joy of life as a healthy woman can be, whose
church-going garments are two hundred miles away, and I filled my lungs
again and again with the sweet moorland air as I sauntered leisurely up
the village street. A delightful breeze was blowing from the west, and
I knew that my hair would be all about my ears before I reached the
church; but that was a small matter, for who was there to care or
criticise? The village rested in the calm of the Sabbath: no sound of
human voice or human feet disturbed its quiet. But the cocks crowed
proudly from their elevated perches by the roadside, and the rooks
cawed noisily in the sycamores as they saw their lofty homes rocked to
and fro in the swell of the wind. I stood for a moment or two to watch
the behaviour of the trees when Boreas, rude as ever, flung himself
upon them. How irritable and angry they became! How they shook their
branches and shrieked their defiance, t