“Who is the little girl, then,” asked Maggie, “who sits with them in church?”

“Oh! that’s little Miss Harvey, his niece, and a great fortune.”

“They do say he never forgave her mother till the day of her death,” remarked Nancy.

“Then they tell stories, Nancy!” replied Mrs. Browne (it was she herself who had said it; but that was before Mr. Buxton’s call).  For d’ye think his sister would have left him guardian to her child, if they were not on good terms?”

“Well!  I only know what folks say.  And, for sure, he took a spite at Mr. Harvey for no reason on earth; and every one knows he never spoke to him.”

“He speaks very kindly and pleasantly,” put in Maggie.

“Ay; and I’m not saying but what he is a very good, kind man in the main.  But he has his whims, and keeps hold on ’em when he’s got ’em.  There’s them pies burning, and I’m talking here!”

When Nancy had returned to her kitchen, Mrs. Browne called Maggie up stairs, to examine what clothes would be needed for Edward.  And when they were up, she tried on the black satin gown, which had been her visiting dress ever since she was married, and which she intended should replace the old, worn-out bombazine on the day of the visit to Combehurst.

“For Mrs. Buxton is a real born lady,” said she; “and I should like to be well dressed, to do her honor.”

“I did not know there was a Mrs. Buxton,” said Maggie.  “She is never at church.”

“No; she is but delicate and weakly, and never leaves the house.  I think her maid told me she never left her room now.”

The Buxton family, root and branch, formed the piece de resistance in the conversation between Mrs. Browne and her children for the next week.  As the day drew near, Maggie almost wished to stay at home, so impressed was she with the awfulness of the visit.  Edward felt bold in the idea of a new suit of clothes, which had been ordered for the occasion, and for school afterwards.  Mrs. Browne remembered having heard the rector say, “A woman never looked so lady-like as when she wore black satin,” and kept her spirits up with that observation; but when she saw how worn it was at the elbows, she felt rather depressed, and unequal to visiting.  Still, for her children’s sake, she would do much.

After her long day’s work was ended, Nancy sat up at her sewing.  She had found out that among all the preparations, none were going on for Margaret; and she had used her influence over her mistress (who half-liked and half-feared, and entirely depended upon her) to obtain from her an old gown, which she had taken to pieces, and washed and scoured, and was now making up, in a way a little old-fashioned to be sure; but, on the whole, it looked so nice when completed and put on, that Mrs. Browne gave Maggie a strict lecture about taking great care of such a handsome frock and forgot that she had considered the gown from which if had been made as worn out and done for.