“Sir, that’s a matter that’s hid from me,” answered Mrs. Peckaby.  “The gentleman that was sent back to me by Brother Jarrum, hadn’t had particulars revealed to him.  There’s difficulties in the way of a animal on four legs which can’t swim, doing it all, that I don’t pretend to explain away.  I’m content, when the hour comes, sir, to start, and trust.  Peckaby, he’s awful sinful, sir.  Only last evening, when I was saying the quadruple might have mirac’lous parts give to it, like Balum’s had in the Bible, Peckaby he jeered, and said he’d like to see Balum’s or any other quadruple, set off to swim to America—­that he’d find the bottom afore he found the land.  I wonder the kitchen ceiling don’t drop down upon his head!  For myself, sir, I’m rejoiced to trust, as I says; and as soon as the white donkey do come, I shall mount him without fear.”

“What do you expect to find at New Jerusalem?” asked Lionel.

“I could sooner tell you, sir, what I don’t expect; it ’ud take up less time.  There’s a’most everything good at New Jerusalem that the world contains—­Verner’s Pride’s a poor place to it, sir—­saving your presence for saying so.  I could have sat and listened to Brother Jarrum in this here shop for ever, sir, if it hadn’t been that the longing was upon me to get there.  In this part o’ the world we women be poor, cast down, half-famished, miserable slaves; but in New Jerusalem we are the wives of saints, well cared for, and clothed and fed, happy as the day’s long, and our own parlours to ourselves, and nobody to interrupt us.  Yes, Peckaby, I’m a-telling his honour, Mr. Verner, what’s a-waiting for me at New Jerusalem!  And the sooner I’m on my road to it, the better.”

The conclusion was addressed to Peckaby himself.  Peckaby had just come in from the forge, grimed and dirty.  He touched his hair to Lionel, an amused expression playing on his face.  In point of fact, this New Jerusalem vision was affording the utmost merriment to Peckaby and a few more husbands.  Peckaby had come home to his tea, which meal it was the custom of Deerham to enjoy about three o’clock.  He saw no signs of its being in readiness; and, but for the presence of Mr. Verner, might probably have expressed his opinion demonstratively upon the point.  Peckaby, of late, appeared to have changed his nature and disposition.  From being a timid man, living under wife-thraldom, he had come to exercise thraldom over her.  How far Mrs. Peckaby’s state of low spirits, into which she was generally sunk, may have explained this, nobody knew.

“I have had a turn, Peckaby.  I caught sight of a white tail a-going by, and I thought it might be the quadruple a-coming for me.  I was shook, I can tell you.  ’Twas more nor an hour ago, and I’ve been able to do nothing since, but sit here and weep; I couldn’t redd up after that.”

“Warn’t it the quadrepid?” asked Peckaby in a mocking tone.

“No, it weren’t,” she moaned.  “It were nothing but that white pony of Farmer Blow’s.”