Truly the shadow of death seemed everywhere.  But the boys were so used to dismal tales of wholesale devastation that one more or less did not seem greatly to matter.  Perhaps the contrast was the more sharp out here between the smiling landscape and the silent, shut-up house; but the chief fear which beset them was lest their kind aunt should have been taken by death, in which case they scarcely knew what would become of themselves.

They hastened their steps as they entered the familiar lane where nestled the thatched cottage in which their aunt had her abode.  Mary Harmer was their father’s youngest and favourite sister.  Once she had made one of the home party on the bridge; but that was long before the boys could remember.  That was in the lifetime of their grandparents, and before the old people resigned their business to the able hands of their son James, and came into the country to live.

The grandfather of Joseph and Benjamin had built this cottage, and he and his wife had lived in it from that time till the day of their death.  Their daughter Mary remained still in the pretty, commodious place—­if indeed she had not died during the time of the visitation.  The children all loved their Aunt Mary, and esteemed a visit to her house as one of the greatest of privileges.

Benjamin, who was rather delicate, had once passed six months together here, and was called by Mary Harmer “her boy.”  He grew excited as he marked every familiar turn in the shady lane; and when at last the thatched roof of the rose-covered cottage came in sight, he uttered a shout of excitement and ran hastily forward.

The diamond lattice panes were shining with their accustomed cleanliness.  There was no sign of neglect about the bright little house.  The door stood open to the sunshine and the breeze; and at the sound of Benjamin’s cry, a figure in a neat cotton gown and large apron appeared suddenly in the doorway, whilst a familiar voice exclaimed:  “Now God be praised! it is my own boy.  Two of them!  Thank Heaven for so much as this!” and running down the garden path, Mary Harmer folded both the lads in her arms, tears coursing down her cheeks the while.

“God bless them!  God bless them!  How I have longed for news of you all!  What news from home bring you, dear lads?  I tremble almost to ask, but be it what it may, two of you are alive and well; and in times like these we must needs learn to say, ‘Thy will be done!’”

“We are all alive, we are all well!” cried Joseph, hastening to relieve the worst of his aunt’s fears.  “Some say ours is almost the only house in London where there be not one dead.  I scarce know if that be true.  One or two of us have been sick, and some say that Janet and Dan have both had a touch of the distemper; but they soon were sound again.  They all go about amongst the sick.  Father has been one of the examiners all the time through; and though they only appoint them for a month, he will not give up his office.  He says that so long as he and his family are preserved, so long will he strive to do his duty towards his fellow men.  There be many like him—­our good Lord Mayor for one; and my Lord Craven, who will not fly, as almost all the great ones have done, but stays to help to govern the city wisely, and to see that the alms are distributed aright to the poor at this season.