'No, you can say I'm up-stairs; he must think what he likes. Not a
word about the astronomy to any of them, whatever you do. I should
be called a visionary, and all sorts.'

'So thou beest, child. Why can't ye do something that's of use?'

At the sound of footsteps Swithin beat a hasty retreat up-stairs,
where he struck a light, and revealed a table covered with books and
papers, while round the walls hung star-maps, and other diagrams
illustrative of celestial phenomena. In a corner stood a huge
pasteboard tube, which a close inspection would have shown to be
intended for a telescope. Swithin hung a thick cloth over the
window, in addition to the curtains, and sat down to his papers. On
the ceiling was a black stain of smoke, and under this he placed his
lamp, evidencing that the midnight oil was consumed on that precise
spot very often.

Meanwhile there had entered to the room below a personage who, to
judge from her voice and the quick pit-pat of her feet, was a maiden
young and blithe. Mrs. Martin welcomed her by the title of Miss
Tabitha Lark, and inquired what wind had brought her that way; to
which the visitor replied that she had come for the singing.

'Sit ye down, then,' said granny. 'And do you still go to the House
to read to my lady?'

'Yes, I go and read, Mrs. Martin; but as to getting my lady to
hearken, that's more than a team of six horses could force her to
do.'