Looking up from the rolling-pin, Creedle saw passing the window first

the timber-merchant, in his second-best suit, Mrs. Melbury in her best

silk, and Grace in the fashionable attire which, in part brought home

with her from the Continent, she had worn on her visit to Mrs.

Charmond's. The eyes of the three had been attracted to the

proceedings within by the fierce illumination which the oven threw out

upon the operators and their utensils.

"Lord, Lord! if they baint come a'ready!" said Creedle.

"No--hey?" said Giles, looking round aghast; while the boy in the

background waved a reeking candlestick in his delight. As there was no

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help for it, Winterborne went to meet them in the door-way.

"My dear Giles, I see we have made a mistake in the time," said the

timber-merchant's wife, her face lengthening with concern.

"Oh, it is not much difference. I hope you'll come in."

"But this means a regular randyvoo!" said Mr. Melbury, accusingly,

glancing round and pointing towards the bake-house with his stick.

"Well, yes," said Giles.

"And--not Great Hintock band, and dancing, surely?"

"I told three of 'em they might drop in if they'd nothing else to do,"

Giles mildly admitted.

"Now, why the name didn't ye tell us 'twas going to be a serious kind

of thing before? How should I know what folk mean if they don't say?

Now, shall we come in, or shall we go home and come back along in a

couple of hours?"

"I hope you'll stay, if you'll be so good as not to mind, now you are

here. I shall have it all right and tidy in a very little time. I

ought not to have been so backward." Giles spoke quite anxiously for

one of his undemonstrative temperament; for he feared that if the

Melburys once were back in their own house they would not be disposed

to turn out again.

"'Tis we ought not to have been so forward; that's what 'tis," said Mr.

Melbury, testily. "Don't keep us here in the sitting-room; lead on to

the bakehouse, man. Now we are here we'll help ye get ready for the

rest. Here, mis'ess, take off your things, and help him out in his

baking, or he won't get done to-night. I'll finish heating the oven,

and set you free to go and skiver up them ducks." His eye had passed

with pitiless directness of criticism into yet remote recesses of

Winterborne's awkwardly built premises, where the aforesaid birds were

hanging.




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