CHAPTER ELEVEN.
UNEXPECTED LODGINGS.
"Now then, who goes home?" cried the cheerful voice of Mrs Wade, whenthe sermon was over. "You, Mistress Benold?--you, Alice Mount?--you,Meg Thurston? You'd best hap your mantle well about your head.Mistress Silverside, this sharp even: yon hood of yours is not so thick,and you are not so young as you were once. Now, Adrian Purcas, thee beoff with Johnson and Mount; thou'rt not for my money. Agnes Love,woman, I wonder at you! coming out of a November night with no thicker amantle than that old purple thing, that I'm fair tired of seeing on you.What's that? `Can't afford a new one?' Go to Southampton! There'sone in my coffer that I never use now. Here, Doll! wherever is thatlazy bones? Gather up thy heels, wilt thou, and run to my great oakcoffer, and bring yon brown hood I set aside. Now don't go and fetchthe red one! that's my best Sunday gear, and thou'rt as like to bringred when I tell thee brown as thou art to eat thy supper.--Well, Alice?"
"I cry you mercy, Hostess, for troubling of you; but Master and me,we're bidden to lie at the mill. Mistress Ewring's been that good; butthere's no room for Rose, and--"
"Then Rose can turn in with Dorothy, and I'm fain on't if she'll giveher a bit of her earnestness for pay. There's not as much lead to herheels in a twelvemonth as would last Doll a week.--So this is what thoucalls a brown hood, is it? I call it a blue apron. Gramercy, thestupidness o' some folks!"
"Please you, Mistress, there was nought but that in the coffer."
"What coffer?"
"The walnut, in the porch-chamber."
"Well, if ever I did! I never spake a word of the walnut coffer, northe porch-chamber neither, I told thee the great oak coffer, and that'sin my chamber, as thou knows, as well as thou knows thy name's Dorothy.Put that apron back where thou found it, and bring me the brown hoodfrom the oak coffer. Dear heart, but she'll go and cast her eyes aboutfor an oak hood in a brown coffer, as like as not! She's that heedless.It's not for lack of wit; she could if she would.--Why, what's to bedone with yon little scraps! You can never get home to Thorpe such anight as this. Johnson! you leave these bits o' children with me, andI'll send them back to you to-morrow when the cart goes your way for aload of malt. There's room enough for you; you'd all pack in a thimble,well-nigh.--Nay, now! hast thou really found it? Now then, Agnes Love,cast that over you, and hap it close to keep you warm. Pay! bless thewoman, I want no pay! only some day I'd like to hear `Inasmuch' said tome. Good even!"
"You'll hear that, Mistress Wade!" said Agnes Love, a pale quiet-lookingwoman, with a warm grasp of Mistress Wade's hand. "You'll hear that,and something else, belike--as we've heard to-night, the King will comeforth and serve you. Eh, but it warms one's heart to hear tell of it!"
"Ay, it doth, dear heart, it doth! Good-night, and God bless thee!Now, Master Pulleyne, I'll show you your chamber, an' it like you. RoseAllen, you know the way to Dorothy's loft? Well, go you up, and takethe little ones with you. It's time for babes like them to be abed.Doll will show you how to make up a bed for them. Art waiting for someone, Bessy?"
"No, Mistress Wade," said Elizabeth Foulkes, who had stood quietly in acorner as though she were; "but if you'd kindly allow it, I'd fain go uptoo and have a chat with Rose. My mistress gave me leave for anotherhour yet."
"Hie thee up, good maid, and so do," replied Mrs Wade cheerily, takingup a candlestick to light Mr Pulleyne to the room prepared for him,where, as she knew from past experience, he was very likely to sit atstudy till far into the night.
Dorothy lighted another candle, and offered it to Rose.
"See, you'll lack a light," said she.
"Nay, not to find our tongues," answered Rose, smiling.
"Ah, but to put yon children abed. Look you in the closet, Rose, as yougo into the loft, and you'll see a mattress and a roll of blankets, witha canvas coverlet that shall serve them. You'll turn in with me."
"All right, Doll; I thank you."
"You look weary, Doll," said Elizabeth.
"Weary? Eh, but if you dwelt with our mistress, you'd look weary, besure. She's as good a woman as ever trod shoe-leather, only she's somonstrous sharp. She thinks you can be there and back before you'vefair got it inside your head that you're to go. I marvel many a timewhether the angels 'll fly fast enough to serve her when she gets toHeaven. Marry come up but they'll have to step out if they do."
Rose laughed, and led the way upstairs, where she had been several timesbefore.
Inns at that time were built like Continental country inns are now,round a square space, with a garden inside, and a high archway for theentrance, so high that a load of hay could pass underneath. There wereno inside stairs, but a flight led up to the second storey from thecourtyard, and a balcony running all round the house gave access to thebedrooms. Rose, however, went into none of the rooms, but made her wayto one corner, where a second steep flight of stairs ran straight upbetween the walls. These the girls mounted, and at the top entered alow door, which led into a large, low room, lighted by a skylight, andoccupied by little furniture. At the further end was a good-sized bedcovered with a patchwork quilt, but without any hangings--the absence ofthese indicating either great poverty or extremely low rank. There wasneither drawers, dressing-table, nor washstand. A large chest besidethe bed held all Dorothy's possessions, and a leaf-table which would letdown was fixed to the wall under a mirror. A form in one corner, andtwo stools, made up the rest of the furniture. In a corner close to theentrance stood another door, which Rose opened after she had set up theleaf-table and put the candle upon it. Then, with Elizabeth's help, shedragged out a large, thick straw mattress, and the blankets and coverletof which Dorothy had spoken, and made up the bed in one of theunoccupied corners. A further search revealed a bolster, but no pillowswere forthcoming. That did not matter, for they expected none.
"Now then, children, we'll get you into bed," said Rose.
"Will must say his prayers first," said Cissy anxiously.
"Of course. Now, Will, come and say thy prayers, like a good lad."
Will knelt down beside the bed, and did as he was told in a shrill,sing-song voice. Odd prayers they were; but in those days nobody knewany better, and most children were taught to say still queerer things.First came the Lord's Prayer: so far all was right. Then Will repeatedthe Ten Commandments and the Creed, which are not prayers at all, andfinished with this formula:--
"Matthew, Mark, Luke and John, Bless the bed that I lie on: Four corners to my bed, Four angels at their head; One to read, and one to write, And one to guard my bed at night.
"And now I lay me down to sleep, I pray that Christ my soul may keep; If I should die before I wake, I pray that Christ my soul may take; Wake I at morn, or wake I never, I give my soul to Christ for ever."
After this strange jumble of good things and nonsense, Will jumped intobed, where the baby was already laid. It was Cissy's turn next. Eversince it had been so summarily arranged by Mrs Wade that the childrenwere to stay the night at the King's Head, Cissy had been lookingpreternaturally solemn. Now, when she was desired to say her prayers,as a prelude to going to bed, Cissy's lip quivered, and her eyes filledwith tears.
"Why, little maid, what ails thee?" asked Rose.
"It's Father," said Cissy, in an unsteady voice. "I don't know howeverFather will manage without me. He'll have to dress his own supper. Ionly hope he'll leave the dish for me to wash when I get home. No bodynever put Father and me asunder afore!"
"Little maid," answered Elizabeth, "Mistress Wade meant to save thee thelong walk home."
"Oh, I know she meant it kind," replied Cissy, "and I'm right thankful:but, please, I'd rather be tired than Father be without me. We've neverbeen asunder afore--never!"
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