Cherry had heard some such words as these as the party had jogged onwards together; and now she found herself standing timidly at the back entrance of the house, her box beside her, and one of her uncle’s friends at her side.  When the door was opened and her guardian spoke her name and errand, she was quickly made welcome to enter, and after saying a hasty goodbye to the kindly merchant, found herself traversing several long stone passages, till she was finally ushered into a low parlour, where an elderly woman sat brewing over the fire some concoction which looked like one of Mistress Susan’s compounds of berries and spice.

“Sure it is my good aunt, Prudence Dyson,” said Cherry, as the woman looked quickly round.  “Methinks I should have guessed that anywhere, thou art so like to my uncle.”

The woman came forward and saluted her niece gravely and kindly.

“Thou art Martin Holt’s daughter?  What is thy name, child?  I could scarce make it out from Susan’s letter, for she is no scholar, as she ofttimes says.  I am right glad to welcome thee, and I trust thou comest to us with a willing heart?”

“A right willing heart,” answered the girl, smiling bravely, despite the strangeness of her surroundings; for there was something home-like and comforting in the aspect of her aunt and in the sound of her voice.  “I was glad my father’s choice lighted on me, and I will strive to please in all I do.  My name is Cherry—­at least that is how I am always called.  And who are the ladies upon whom I am to wait?”

“The one whom thou wilt chiefly serve is Mistress Kate Trevlyn, a daughter of Sir Richard Trevlyn of the Chase.  I know not if thou knowest aught of the family, but most like thou art aware that thy aunt Bridget made a luckless marriage with one Nicholas Trevlyn, whereby she cast herself adrift from all her family.  Why, child, what a colour thou hast!  What dost thou know of this matter?”

“I know my cousin Cuthbert Trevlyn,” answered Cherry, trying to speak naturally, though her heart beat wildly all the while.  “He came to us a year ago, and remained beneath my father’s roof till the summer had well-nigh come.  From him we learned much of the family; and right glad am I to think that I may serve Mistress Kate, who was a kind friend to him in times past.  My cousin Cuthbert was much beloved by all our house whilst he remained beneath our roof.  We have not heard of him this many a day.  Dost thou know aught of him, my aunt?”

Prudence Dyson gave her niece a quick, sharp glance, and then answered a little evasively: 

“Thou must ask that question of Mistress Kate, my dear, if she will please to talk with thee.  She may have had news of him belike.  As for us of this household, we hear but little of what happens in the world beyond.  We are all growing old together.”

Had it not been for the earnestness with which they were talking, the aunt and niece might have heard a light footfall down the passage.  The door was softly pushed open, and a clear voice asked: