ith his day as he had expected to be;
and, finally, his mother carried him off to bed, and, having folded his
hands, made him repeat a little prayer, and then he murmured out in a
sing-song a verse Ned the cowboy had taught him:--

Four corners to my bed,
Four angels at my head;
Matthew, Mark, Luke and John,
Bless the bed I lie upon.

Almost before the last word was said, the white lids closed over the violet
eyes, and Ambrose was asleep. Mary stood over him for a minute with clasped
hands.

'Ah! God keep him safe, nor suffer him to stray where danger lurks,' she
said.

Voices below and the sound of heavy feet warned her that the meeting in the
barn was over, and her stepmother would require her presence.

The little company which had met in the barn was composed of labourers and
shepherds, with one or two of the better sort of work-people holding
superior positions on the estate of the Sidneys.

Mistress Forrester asked a tall man with a very nasal twang to bless the
humble fare set before them, and a very long prayer followed before the
benches were drawn closer to the board, and the large bowls of bread and
milk, flavoured with strips of onion, were attacked by the hungry brethren
with large, unwieldy, wooden spoons.

Mary waited on the guests, and, filling a large earthen cup with cider,
passed it round. One man who took a very prolonged pull at it, wiping his
mouth with the flap of his short homespun cloak, said, in a mysterious
whisper,--

'There's a nest of Papists hiding in Tunbridge, and one of those emissaries
of the Evil One is lurking about here, Mistress Forrester. Let us all be on
guard.'

'Ay,' said another, 'I've seen him. He wears the priest's garb, and he is
plotting mischief. What can he want here?'

'He can work us no harm; the tables are turned now, and the Papists are
getting their deserts,' Mistress Forrester said.

'I wouldn't trust them,' said the first speaker. 'They would as lief set
fire to this house or yon barn as to a stake where the blessed martyrs were
bound. You looked scared, Mistress Gifford. But, if all we hear is true,
you rather favour the Papists.'

Mary rallied, with a great effort.

'Nay,' she said; 'I do not favour their creed or their persecuting ways,
but I may no less feel pain that they should be hunted, and, as I know, in
many cases, homeless and dying of hunger.'

'Mary consorts with grand folks down at the great house,' Mistress
Forres