’Well, write it clear then, and put a line under it to show those are my special words.  Hast thee done it?  Then now start afresh.  I give and bequeath my book o’ sermons, as is bound in good calfskin, and lies on the third shelf o’ corner cupboard at the right hand o’ t’ fire-place, to Philip Hepburn; for I reckon he’s as fond o’ reading sermons as thee art o’ light, well-boiled paste, and I’d be glad for each on ye to have somewhat ye like for to remember me by.  Is that down?  There; now for my cousins John and Jeremiah.  They are rich i’ world’s gear, but they’ll prize what I leave ’em if I could only onbethink me what they would like.  Hearken!  Is na’ that our Hester’s step?  Put it away, quick!  I’m noane for grieving her wi’ telling her what I’ve been about.  We’ll take a turn at t’ will next First Day; it will serve us for several Sabbaths to come, and maybe I can think on something as will suit cousin John and cousin Jeremiah afore then.’

Hester, as was mentioned, paused a minute or two before lifting the latch of the door.  When she entered there was no unusual sign of writing about; only Will Coulson looking very red, and crushing and smelling at the geranium leaf.

Hester came in briskly, with the little stock of enforced cheerfulness she had stopped at the door to acquire.  But it faded away along with the faint flush of colour in her cheeks; and the mother’s quick eye immediately noted the wan heavy look of care.

‘I have kept t’ pot in t’ oven; it’ll have a’most got a’ t’ goodness out of t’ tea by now, for it’ll be an hour since I made it.  Poor lass, thou look’st as if thou needed a good cup o’ tea.  It were dree work sitting wi’ Betsy Darley, were it?  And how does she look on her affliction?’

‘She takes it sore to heart,’ said Hester, taking off her hat, and folding and smoothing away her cloak, before putting them in the great oak chest (or ‘ark,’ as it was called), in which they were laid from Sunday to Sunday.

As she opened the lid a sweet scent of dried lavender and rose-leaves came out.  William stepped hastily forwards to hold up the heavy lid for her.  She lifted up her head, looked at him full with her serene eyes, and thanked him for his little service.  Then she took a creepie-stool and sate down on the side of the fire-place, having her back to the window.

The hearth was of the same spotless whiteness as the steps; all that was black about the grate was polished to the utmost extent; all that was of brass, like the handle of the oven, was burnished bright.  Her mother placed the little black earthenware teapot, in which the tea had been stewing, on the table, where cups and saucers were already set for four, and a large plate of bread and butter cut.  Then they sate round the table, bowed their heads, and kept silence for a minute or two.

When this grace was ended, and they were about to begin, Alice said, as if without premeditation, but in reality with a keen shrinking of heart out of sympathy with her child—­