a glass of water even. The old lady's
very stiff in her ways, and the servants are just the same.'

'Oh no,' said Jacinth, 'of course it wouldn't do to ask for anything at
a _gentleman's_ house. You must just bear it, Eugene dear, and perhaps
we'll pass some cottage when we leave the lane; though I'm not very fond
of drinking water at any cottage--one's never sure of its being good.'

'There's the drinking fountain just outside the town; I daresay Master
Eugene can get along till we come to that,' said Phebe, encouragingly.

And for a few moments nothing more was heard of the little boy's woes.
He plodded along silently, till just as they were approaching 'Uncle
Marmy's gate' as they called it, he burst out again.

'I _must_ have a drink, Jass. I tell you I must. Let me go and ask for
one at this house. It wouldn't be naughty. I _can't_ go any furder.'

The girls hesitated. It went very much against the grain with them--with
Jacinth especially--to let the boy go up to the front door of this
strange house to ask for the boon of even a glass of water. And yet it
wouldn't do to let him go to the back-door, 'as if we were beggars,'
said Frances.

'Would it be better to send Phebe? Well, perhaps that would be best.
Phebe, will you go with Master Eugene--to the front door? But Eugene,
you are really very tiresome,' said the elder girl.

'I _must_ have a drink, Jacinth. It's not my fault. I can't help being
firsty,' said the boy, in his doleful tone. 'If you say I mustn't, I'll
_try_ to bear it, but'----

At this moment an unexpected turn was given to the state of affairs by
the gate, a few feet in front of them, being pushed open, to allow some
one to come out.

The sound interrupted the children's discussion; they all looked towards
the gate.

The 'some one' was an elderly, more correctly speaking, perhaps, an old
lady. She was not _very_ tall, but she was thin, and, considering her
years, wonderfully erect. As she stood there at the gate, her thick
black silk skirt trailing a little, a large fleecy white shawl thrown
round her head and shoulders--her bright dark eyes glancing out all the
darker and brighter from the contrast with her snowy hair and
draperies--she looked both striking and stately. Not a person to take
liberties with, assuredly.

Phebe shook in her shoes. As I have said, there was a considerable
amount of awe felt in Thetford for the somewhat mysterious inhabitant of
Robin Redbreast, and Phebe w