Giles was looking very thoughtful.
"Yes, indeed," he exclaimed. "It's the right thing to do, and, as you say, it's following after our kind old godfather. I say, Mike," he went on, "maybe—I shouldn't be very surprised if that's how you've hit the nail on the head—eh, what do you think of that?"
Michael stared. Such an idea had never occurred to him, and indeed he scarcely understood what Giles meant. He thought of it afterwards, however.
Then his cousins left him, and he began to wish he could manage to see Ysenda to tell her the good news.
"She'll be as pleased as I am myself," he thought, "as pleased as if the good luck had been her own. And after all, it's thanks to her I persevered. By the bye, I wonder what I should do with that nice piece of meat she brought me, to fall back upon in case of need. I shouldn't keep it—maybe she'd like me to take it to the dame. I'll just have a look at it."
He turned to the cupboard—it was a sort of larder with a wired opening to the fresh air, which he had arranged himself, for he was very neat-handed. But when he drew back the door, he started with surprise. He could scarcely believe his eyes, and rubbed them hard to make sure he was not dreaming! For there, neatly placed on the shelves, was not only kind Ysenda's gift, but all the remains of the dinner—cold duck, pork pie, plum-pudding, sauces, vegetables, fruit! almost as tempting a sight as had been the viands on their first appearance, so daintily were they all arranged, so clean and bright were the china and glass.
Michael really laughed with pleasure.
"If only I could tell Ysenda," he said aloud.
The opportunity for so doing was coming nearer, though he knew it not.
On their way home Dame Martha and the children met the farmer and his daughter. Ysenda stopped to speak to them, and her father, who happened to be in a very good humour, as he had made excellent terms for the sale of his numerous stacks of hay, accosted the old woman kindly enough, though he had been one of those who had called her very foolish for accepting the charge of the penniless orphans.