their return journey for a few minutes of rest and refreshment. And a
charming place of rest it was! From a stone-paved passage you entered
the "house-place," a large square room, also stone-paved, a step lower
than the passage. Its wide chimney had settled on either side, where one
could sit warm and comfortable--heedless of winter winds--in the glow of
the log-fire burning on the iron "dogs" of the low hearth. In summer its
sanded pavement made it a gratefully cool retreat from the sunshine
outside. Moreover, Stephen Dale's renowned home-brewed ale added to the
attractions of the house.

Neither Stephen nor any of his household ever set foot in the church for
the purposes of worship; for, strange as it may seem, the Dales,
surrounded by English country yokels, whose sole notion of religion lay
in a perfunctory attendance at church once on a Sunday--afternoon for
preference--to listen uncomprehending to the service, and slumber through
the sermon, came of a Catholic stock. Both Stephen and his wife hailed
from Lancashire; they had spent many years in service together in a
Catholic household about fifty miles distant from Lanedon before they had
married and set up housekeeping at the "British Lion." Nor were they so
utterly deprived of the consolations of religion as at first sight might
appear; four miles away were the military barracks of Melliford, and a
Catholic chapel which had been built there--principally on account of the
soldiers--was served every Sunday and holiday from a larger center, and
thither the Dales regularly drove to worship.

Seven children had been born to the worthy couple, but death had snatched
all in turn except the last; this was Penelope (our Penny), who, needless
to say, was the idol of both parents. The result of their devotion was a
rather strict surveillance, to which she was subjected, not only during
childhood's years, but with even greater insistence when she had reached