“How long ago is it since Hatton Hall fire was lit?”

“Well, John, our fire isn’t out of counting, like some of the old hearth fires in Yorkshire.  But Hatton fire will never go out, John.  It was lit by a man that will not die, nor his name perish forever. Why-a! John Wesley kindled the fire on Hatton hearthstone.”

“Say what you can about it, mother.  My father has told me the story many a time, but I can never hear it too often.”

“My dear lad, it was in the days of thy great-grandfather.  One afternoon John Wesley came to Hatton and was met with honor and welcome.  And word was sent far and near, to squire and farmer, hedger and ditcher.  And at eight o’clock the good, great man stood up in Hatton’s big barn in their midst.  And he talked heavenly to them of Christ and of the love of God that was not willing that any should perish, but that all should come to repentance.  Eh, my dear, he talked till men and women were weeping for joy and hope, and the big barn felt as if it was on fire.  And that night John Wesley sat a long while with the Master of Hatton, and it was past midnight when they went to bed.  But very early in the morning—­before cocklight it was—­your great-grandfather came downstairs to see that Wesley had a cup of tea before his early start onward.  And he found the good man had already lit a fire and infused the tea, and then and there it was made the law of Hatton household that the fire John Wesley kindled there must never go out, but be a sign and covenant of good to the House of Hatton as long as there was a man in Hatton to carry it on.”  As she was talking Mrs. Hatton had put her basket of herbs on a little table, and with glowing cheeks she now bent her head and inhaled their refreshing odors.  John was silent for a few moments, and profoundly touched by the old homely story; then he said,

“My dear mother, it may be a son of Harry’s that will be so favored.  Had we not better accept his marriage as pleasantly as we can?  Lucy Lugur is a beautiful girl, and that big fervent Welshman who is her father has doubtless made her the image of all that God and man love in a woman.”

“Maybe Lugur has done his best with her, but women see a long sight further into women than men do.  I’ll hev to seek and to find good reasons for Harry marrying so far below himself before I’ll hev this or that to say or do with such an ill-sorted marriage.  Now, John, get ready for thy dinner; none of us are going to do any waiting for a lad that thinks he can live on love.”

John rose, smiling, and as he did so said, “Was that the way Methodism began, mother?”

“To be sure, it was.  It began in the lanes and streets and in the barns and kitchens of old manor houses like Hatton Hall.  Your great-grandfather used to say it was like a loud cry at midnight startling the sleepy world.”

“It was the most picturesque domestic event of last century, as well as a religious——­”