ould, rather than forty shillings, she were nigh to tend him."

From which speech it will be seen that when Rachel did "turn coat," she
turned it inside out entirely.

"Good lack, Aunt Rachel! what is he but an evil companion?" demanded
irreverent Blanche, with her usual want of respect for the opinions of
her elders.

"If he were the worsest companion on earth, child, yet the lad may lack
his wounds dressed," said Rachel, indignantly.

"And a Papist!"

"So much the rather should we show him the betterness of our Protestant
faith, by Christian-wise tending of him."

"And an enemy!" pursued Blanche, proceeding with the list.

"Hold thy peace, maid! Be we not bidden in God's Word to do good unto
our enemies?"

"And a perturbator of the Queen's peace, Aunt Rachel!"

"This young lad hath not much perturbed the Queen's peace, I warrant,"
said Rachel, uneasily,--a dim apprehension of her niece's intentions
crossing her mind at last.

"Nay, but hanging is far too good for him!" argued Blanche, quoting the
final item.

"Thou idle prating hussy!" cried Rachel, turning hastily round to face
her,--vexed, and yet laughing. "And if I have said such things in mine
heat, what call hast thou to throw them about mine ears? Go get thee
about thy business."

"I have no business, at this present, Aunt Rachel."

"Lack-a-daisy! that a cousin [then used in the general sense of
relative] of mine should say such a word! No business, when a barrelful
of wool waiteth the carding, and there is many a yard of flax, to be
spun, and cordial waters to distil, and a full set of shirts to make for
thy father, and Jack's gown to guard [trim] anew with lace, and thy
mother's new stomacher--"

"Oh, mercy, Aunt Rachel!" cried lazy Blanche, putting her hands over her
ears.

But Mistress Rachel was merciless--towards Blanche.

"No business, quotha!" resumed that astonished lady. "And Margaret's
winter's gown should, have been cut down ere now into a kirtle, and
Lucrece lacketh both a hood and a napron, and thine own partlets have
not yet so much as the first stitch set in them. No business! Prithee,
stand out of my way, Madam Idlesse, for I have no time to spend in
twirling of my thumbs. And when thou find thy partlets rags, burden not
me withal. No business, by my troth!"

Muttering which, Rachel stalked away, while Blanche, instead of fetching
needle and thread, and setting to work on her new ruffs, fled into the
garden, and