of Margaret Manning, born Moneypenny. I was enraged at myself for
having named Heathbridge at all, when I found what it was drawing
down upon me. One Independent minister, as I said to myself, was
enough for any man; and here I knew (that is to say, I had been
catechized on Sabbath mornings by) Mr Dawson, our minister at
home; and I had had to be civil to old Peters at Eltham, and
behave myself for five hours running whenever he asked me to tea
at his house; and now, just as I felt the free air blowing about
me up at Heathbridge, I was to ferret out another minister, and I
should perhaps have to be catechized by him, or else asked to tea
at his house. Besides, I did not like pushing myself upon
strangers, who perhaps had never heard of my mother's name, and
such an odd name as it was--Moneypenny; and if they had, had
never cared more for her than she had for them, apparently, until
this unlucky mention of Heathbridge. Still, I would not disobey
my parents in such a trifle, however irksome it might be. So the
next time our business took me to Heathbridge, and we were dining
in the little sanded inn-parlour, I took the opportunity of Mr
Holdsworth's being out of the room, and asked the questions which
I was bidden to ask of the rosy-cheeked maid. I was either
unintelligible or she was stupid; for she said she did not know,
but would ask master; and of course the landlord came in to
understand what it was I wanted to know; and I had to bring out
all my stammering inquiries before Mr Holdsworth, who would never
have attended to them, I dare say, if I had not blushed, and
blundered, and made such a fool of myself.

'Yes,' the landlord said, 'the Hope Farm was in Heathbridge
proper, and the owner's name was Holman, and he was an
Independent minister, and, as far as the landlord could tell, his