As soon as it had been resolved by Mrs Dale and Lily that the flitting from the Small House at Allington was not to be accomplished, Lily communicated the fact to Hopkins.

“Miss,” said he, “when I said them few words to you and your mamma, I knew that you would listen to reason.”

This was no more than Lily had expected; that Hopkins should claim the honour of having prevailed by his arguments was a matter of course.

“Yes,” said Lily; “we’ve made up our minds to stay.  Uncle wishes it.”

“Wishes it!  Laws, miss; it ain’t only wishes.  And we all wishes it.  Why, now, look at the reason of the thing.  Here’s this here house—­”

“But, Hopkins, it’s decided.  We’re going to stay.  What I want to know is this; can you come at once and help me to unpack?”

“What! this very evening, as is—­”

“Yes, now; we want to have the things about again before they come back from Guestwick.”

Hopkins scratched his head and hesitated, not wishing to yield to any proposition that could be considered as childish; but he gave way at last, feeling that the work itself was a good work.  Mrs Dale also assented, laughing at Lily for her folly as she did so, and in this way the things were unpacked very quickly, and the alliance between Lily and Hopkins became, for the time, very close.  This work of unpacking and resettling was not yet over, when the battle of the manure broke out, and therefore it was that Hopkins, when his feelings had become altogether too much for him “about the doong,” came at last to Lily, and laying down at her feet all the weight and all the glory of his sixty odd years of life, implored her to make matters straight for him.  “It’s been a killing me, miss, so it has; to see the way they’ve been a cutting that ’sparagus.  It ain’t cutting at all.  It’s just hocking it up;—­what is fit, and what isn’t, all together.  And they’ve been a-putting the plants in where I didn’t mean ’em, though they know’d I didn’t mean ’em.  I’ve stood by, miss, and said never a word.  I’d a died sooner.  But, Miss Lily, what my sufferings have been, ’cause of my feelings getting the better of me about that—­you know, miss—­nobody will ever tell;—­nobody—­nobody—­nobody.”  Then Hopkins turned away and wept.

“Uncle,” said Lily, creeping close up against his chair, “I want to ask you a great favour.”

“A great favour.  Well, I don’t think I shall refuse you anything at present.  It isn’t to ask another earl to the house,—­is it?”

“Another earl!” said Lily.

“Yes; haven’t you heard?  Miss Bell has been here this morning, insisting that I should have over Lord De Guest and his sister for the marriage.  It seems that there was some scheming between Bell and Lady Julia.”

“Of course you’ll ask them.”

“Of course I must.  I’ve no way out of it.  It’ll be all very well for Bell, who’ll be off to Wales with her lover; but what am I to do with the earl and Lady Julia, when they’re gone?  Will you come and help me?”