you'll get half a crown from each of
the gents, and that'll be seven and six; and say three days at
the Inn, half-a-guinea all in all. I can spare you for that."

"Jonas, I do not wish to go."

"But I choose that you shall."

"I pray you allow me to remain here."

"There's Mr. Iver leaves to-day for his shop at Guildford, and I
reckon the old woman is put about over that, too."

After some hesitation Mehetabel yielded. The thought that Iver
would not be at the Ship alone induced her to consent.

She was hurt and angry that her husband had stipulated for payment
for her services. After the kindness, the generosity with which
she had been treated, this seemed ungracious in the extreme. She
said as much.

"I don't see it," answered Jonas. "When you wos a baby she made
the parish pay her for taking you. Now she wants you, it is her
turn to pay."

Bideabout did not allow his wife much time in which to make her
preparations. He had business in Godalming with a lawyer, and was
going to drive old Clutch thither. He would take Mehetabel with
him as far as Thursley.

On reaching the tavern Mrs. Verstage met her with effusion, and
Iver, hearing his mother's exclamation, ran out.

Mehetabel was surprised and confused at seeing him. He caught her
by the hand, helped her to descend from the cart, and retained his
hold of her fingers for a minute after it was necessary.

He had told his mother that he must return to Guildford that day;
and when she had asked for Mehetabel's help she had calculated on
the absence of her son, who had been packing up his canvas and
paints. To him she had not breathed a word of the likelihood that
Mehetabel would be coming to her aid.

"I daresay Bideabout will give you a lift, Iver," she said.

"I don't know that I can," said Jonas. "I've promised to pick up
Lintott, and there ain't room in the trap for more than two."

Then the Broom-Squire drove away.

"See, Matabel," said Iver, pointing to the signboard, "I've
redaubed the Old Ship, quite to my father's satisfaction. By Jove,
I told mother I should return to Guildford to-day--but now, hang
me, if I do not defer my departure for a day or two."

Mrs. Verstage looked reproachfully at her son.

"Mother," said he in self-exculpation. "I shall take in ideas, a
model costs me from a shilling to half-acrown an hour, and here
is Matabel, a princess of models, will sit for nothing."

"I shall be otherwise employed," said the girl, in co