"Jacob," said Martin Holt, "take yon steed to the stables of Master
Miller, and ask him for fodder and tendance for the beast for this
night.

"Young sir, thou hast a strange story to tell, and I would hear it
anon. If thou hadst not succoured my daughter in her hour of need,
I must have bid thee welcome to my house and my table. Since thou
hast done this also, I do it the more readily. I scarce knew that
my misguided sister had borne a son. Whether he lived or died I had
no means of knowing. But if thou art he, come in, and be welcome. I
will hear thy tale anon. Meantime stand no longer without in the
cold."

If this welcome were something coldly given, Cuthbert was not aware
of it. Used as he was to his father's fierce sullenness and
taciturnity, any other manner seemed warm and pleasant. He followed
this new uncle up the dark staircase without any misgiving, and
found himself quickly in the well-warmed and well-lighted eating
parlour, where Mistress Susan was already bustling about in a very
noisy fashion, getting the viands ready for serving. A dark frown
was on her face, and her whole aspect was thundery.

The sisters and Rachel had all vanished upstairs to hear Cherry's
story as they got her ready for the supper table, excitement in
this new arrival of an unknown kinsman having saved the girl from
any chiding or questioning from father or aunt. The Coles, father
and son, had returned to the upper parlour with the discretion and
refinement of feeling natural to them; so that only Abraham Dyson
witnessed the next scene in the little domestic drama, for Jacob