"Hurrah for _Ned_!" saith Aunt _Joyce_. "'Tis a comfort to find we have one man in the family."

"I trust we may have two, in time," quoth _Father_. "_Wat_, my lad, I know this comes hard: and as I count thee not wicked, but weak, I would fain help thee all I may. But thou canst not be suffered to forget that my fortune is but three hundred pound by the year; and I have yet three daughters to portion. I could not pay thy debts without calling in that for which thou hast pledged my credit--for it is mine, _Wat_, rather than thine, seeing thine own were thus slender."

"But, Sir!" crieth _Wat_, "that were punishing you for mine extravagance. I never dreamed of that!"

"Come, he is opening his eyes a bit at last," saith Aunt _Joyce_ to me, that was next her.

"May-be, _Wat_," saith _Father_, with a kindly smile, "it had been better if thou hadst dreamed thereof a little sooner. I think, my boy, it will be punishment enough for one of thy nature but to 'bide at home, and to see the straits whereto thou hast put them that love thee best."

"Punishment!" saith Wat, in a low, 'shamed voice. "Yes, _Father_, the worst you could devise."

"Well, then we will say no more," saith _Father_. "Only draw up those lists, _Walter_, and let me have them quickly."

_Father_ then left the chamber: and _Wat_ threw him down at _Mother's_ knee.

"O _Mother_, _Mother_, if I had but thought sooner!" crieth he. "If I could but have stood out when they laughed at me!--for that, in very deed, were the point. I did begin with keeping within my wage: and then all they mocked and flouted me, and told me no youth of any spirit should do so: and--and I gave way. Oh, if I had but held on!"

_Mother_ softly stroked _Wat's_ gleaming fair hair, that is so like hers.

"My boy!" she saith, "didst thou ask for G.o.d's strength, or try to hold on in thine own?"

_Walter_ made no answer in words, but methought I saw the water stand in his eyes.

When _Mother_ and _Wat_ were both gone forth, Aunt _Joyce_ saith,--"I cannot verily tell how it is that folk should have a fantasy that 'tis a shame to be 'feared of doing ill, and no shame at all to be 'feared of being laughed at. Why, one day when I were at home, there was little _Jack Bracher_ a-stealing apples in mine orchard: and _Hewitt_ (that is Aunt _Joyce's_ chief gardener) caught him and brought him to me.

_Jack_, he sobbed and thrust his knuckles into his eyes, and said it were all the other lads. 'But what did the other lads to thee?' quoth I. 'Oh, they dared me!' crieth he. 'They said I durst not take 'em: and so I had to do it.' Now, heard you ever such stuff in your born days? Why, they might have dared me till this time next year, afore ever I had turned thief for their daring."

"But then, _Aunt_, you see," saith _Ned_, a twinkle in his eyes, "you are but a woman. That alters the case."

"Just so, _Ned_," quoth Aunt _Joyce_, the fun in her eyes as in his: "I am one of the weaker s.e.x, I know."

"Now, I'll tell you," saith _Ned_, "how they essayed it with me, when I first joined my ship. They dared me--my mates, wot you--to go up to the masthead, afore I had been aboard a day. 'Now, look you here, mates,'

says I. 'When the Admiral bids me, I'll scale every mast in the ship; and if I break my neck, I shall but have done my duty. But I'll do nought because I'm dared, and so that you know.' Well, believe me who will, but they cheered me as if I had taken a galleon laden with ducats.

And I've been their white son [favourite] ever since."

"Of course!" saith Aunt _Joyce_. "They alway do. 'Tis men which have no true courage that dare others: and when they come on one that hath, they hold him the greater hero because 'tis not in themselves to do the like. _Ned_, lad, thou art thy father's son. I know not how _Wat_ gat changed."

"Well, _Aunt_, I hope I am," saith _Ned_. "I would liefer copy _Father_ than any man ever I knew."

"Hold thou there, and thou shalt make a fair copy," saith Aunt _Joyce_.

We wrought a while in silence, when Aunt _Joyce_ saith--

"Sure, if men's eyes were not blinded by the sin of their nature, they should perceive the sheer folly of fearing the lesser thing, and yet daring the greater. 'Feared of the laughter of fools, that is but as the crackling of thorns under the pot: and not 'feared of the wrath of Him that liveth for ever and ever--which is able, when He hath killed, to destroy body and soul in h.e.l.l. Oh the folly and blindness of human nature!"

SELWICK HALL, MARCH YE VII.

Was ever any creature so good as this dear Aunt _Joyce_ of ours? This morrow, when all were gone on their occasions saving her and _Father_, and _Nell_ and me, up cometh she to _Father_, that was sat with a book of his hand, and saith--

"_Aubrey_!"

_Father_ laid down his book, and looked up on her.

"Thou wert so good as to tell us three mornings gone," saith she, "that thine income was three hundred pound by the year. Right interesting it were, for I never knew the figure aforetime."

"Well?" saith _Father_, laughing.

"But I hope," continueth she, "thou didst not forget (what thou didst know aforetime) that mine is two thousand."

"My dear _Joyce_!" saith _Father_, and held forth his hand. "My true sister! I will not pretend to lack knowledge of thy meaning. Thou wouldst have me draw on thee for help to pay _Walter's_ debts--"

"Nay, not so," saith she, "for I would pay them all out. Look thou, to do the same at once should inconvenience me but a trifle, and to do it at twice, nothing at all."

"But, dear _Joyce_, I cannot," quoth he. "Nay, not for thy sake--I know thou wouldst little allow such a plea--but for _Walter's_ own. To do thus should be something to ease myself, at the cost of a precious lesson that might last him his whole life."

"I take thy meaning," saith she, "yet I cannot sleep at ease if I do not somewhat. Give me leave to help a little, if no more. Might not that be done, yet leave _Wat_ his lesson?"

"Well, dear heart, this I promise thee," saith _Father_, "that in case we go a-begging, we will come first to the _Manor House_ at _Minster Lovel_."

"After which you shall get no farther," saith Aunt _Joyce_. "But I want more than that, _Aubrey_. I would not of my good will tarry to help till thou and _Lettice_ be gone a-begging. I can give the maids a gown-piece by now and then, of course, and so ease my mind enough to get an half-hour's nap: but what am I to do for a night's rest?"

_Father_ laughed. "Come, a word in thine ear," saith he.

Aunt _Joyce_ bent her head down, but then pursed up her lips as though she were but half satisfied at last.

"Will that not serve?" saith _Father_, smiling on her.

"Ay, so far as it goeth," she made answer: "yet it is but an if, _Aubrey_?"

"Life is a chain of ifs, dear _Joyce_," saith he.

"Truth," saith she, and stood a moment as if meditating. "Well," saith she at last, "'half a loaf is better than no bread at all,' so I reckon I must be content with what I have. But if I send thee an whole flock of sheep one day, and to _Lettice_ the next an hundred ells of velvet, prithee be not astonied."

_Father_ laughed, and said nought of that sort should ever astonish him, for he knew Aunt _Joyce_ by far too well.

SELWICK HALL, MARCH YE IX.

We were sat this morrow all in the little chamber at work, and I somewhat marvelled what was ado with _Mother_, for smiles kept ever and anon flitting across her face, as though she were mighty diverted with the flax she was spinning: and I guessed her thoughts should be occupying somewhat that was of mirthful sort. At last saith Aunt _Joyce_:--

"_Lettice_, what is thy mind a-laughing at? I have kept count, and thou hast smiled eleven times this half-hour. Come, give us a share, good fellow."

_Mother_ laughed right out then, and saith--

"Why, _Joyce_, I knew not I was thus observed of a spy. Howbeit, what made me smile, that shall you know. Who is here to list me?"

All the women of the house were there but _Milisent_; of the men none save _Ned_.

"Aubrey hath had demand made of him for our _Milly_," saith _Mother_.

"Heave he!" cries _Ned_. "Who wants her?"

"Good lack, lad, hast no eyes in thine head?" quoth Aunt _Joyce_.