and fell back on her attitude of guarded affection. And Mrs. Wesley
seemed to draw back uneasily from these reflections of herself, and
take refuge in Patty, who, of all her children, understood her the
least.

So now when the others brought their mother to the feast in triumph,
Hetty swept her a curtsey with skirt held wide, then went straight
and kissed her on both cheeks.

"Ah, what a dear truant 'tis! and how good 'tis to have her home
again!"

She did not ask (as Nancy or Patty would assuredly have asked) what
had become of her father. She noted, even in the half-light, a flush
on her mother's temples, and guessed at once that there had been a
duel of tempers on the road, and that, likely enough, papa had
bounced into the house in a huff. The others had, in fact, witnessed
this exit. Hetty, who divined it, went the swiftest way to efface
the memory. She alone, on occasion, could treat her mother
playfully, as an equal in years; and she did so now, taking her by
the hand, and conducting her with mock solemnity to the seat of
honour.

"It _is_ good to be home," Mrs. Wesley admitted as they seated her,
dusted her worn shoes, and plied her with milk and hot griddle-cakes,
potatoes slit and sprinkled with salt upon appetising lumps of
butter. She forgot her vexation. Even the Wroote labourers seemed
less surly than usual. One or two, as they gathered, stepped forward
to welcome her and wish her health before ranging themselves at their
separate meal: and soon a pleasant murmur of voices went up from