mistress, who despatched her at once to prepare as soon as possible a "very nice breakfast."
"Now," said Aunt Eleanor, turning to Jones, who had been marvelling what was about to transpire, "drink up this ale; it will warm you; and when you have finished it come and assist me."
Jones looked and bowed, and felt grateful. And he took the jug, and emptied it, and wasn't long about it, for although cold without he was parched within, and the ale was nice and smooth.
While he was thus enjoying himself—and it really was to him then a source of great enjoyment—Aunt Eleanor opened the parlour shutters, and having looked round, smiled as he entered the room.
"I'm mortal sorry, ma'am," said he, "that these things is broke. It were all done a sarching for the door."
"Never mind," said Aunt Eleanor; "pick up the pieces."
Pick up the pieces! Well! Certainly Jones did think this cool; but he went to work at once and did pick up the pieces, and put them as he picked them up into his apron, and while he was thus employed Aunt Eleanor was engaged in re-adjusting the things on the sideboard.
Having very soon succeeded in making the room look tidy again, the amiable creature—who was anxious, for her reverend friend's sake, that the servants should know as little about the matter as possible—went for a basket, and having put into it all that remained of the previous night's supper, requested Jones to leave it at the cottage of Widow Wix.
"And now," she observed, "you must manage to make your peace with your master."
"I will if I can, ma'am," said Jones. "I know 'twas my fault, and I'm very sorry for it; but if you would put in a good word for me—"
"Well, we'll see what can be done," she replied, and placing half-a-crown in his hand, started him off.
CHAPTER XI.
THE "SPIRIT" APPEARS TO THE PASTOR AND JONES.
There are few things more galling to a sensitive man than the fact of his having been found in a ridiculous position; but while no one could have felt more acutely than Aunt Eleanor's reverend friend that the position in which he had that morning been found was ridiculous, none could have endeavoured more earnestly than Aunt Eleanor herself to induce him to repudiate that feeling, as one which ought not to be entertained.
"Now say no more about it," she at length observed, after having heard impatiently a vast deal of eloquence, for the reverend gentleman;
