ter said, 'who look with as little favour on us, or less, than on the
Papists. For my part, I see but small difference between the bowings, and
scrapings and mummeries practised in the church down yonder, and the mass
in the Papists' worship.'

'You are near right, Mistress Forrester; and those who are aiding and
abetting the Queen in her marriage with a Popish prince have much to answer
for.'

'Which Popish prince?' asked one of the more ignorant of the assembly.

'Is not the man, Philip Sidney, who is set up in these parts as a god,
getting ready to take a share in the tourney which is to do honour to the
men sent by the brother of the murderous French king?'

'I never heard tell on't,' gasped an old dame. 'Dear heart! what will the
country come to?'

'_Ruin!_' was the answer. 'And tell me not a man is godly who has ordered
the Maypole to be set up this coming first of May, and gives countenance by
his presence on the Sabbath day to the wrestling games of the village
louts, and the playing of bowls in the green at the back of the hostelry.
But let us praise the Lord we are delivered from the bondage of Satan, and
have neither part nor lot in these evil doings and vain sports, working
days or Sabbath!'

Fervent Amens were uttered, and, wrapt in the mantle of self-satisfaction
that they were not as other men, the company gathered in the kitchen of
Ford Manor broke up, and, in the gathering twilight, dispersed to their
homes.

Mary Gifford hastened to put away the remnants of the supper, and reserved
the broken fragments for the early breakfast of the poultry the next
morning.

Mistress Forrester did not seem inclined for conversation, and yawned
audibly, saying she was tired out and it was time to lock up for the night.

'The days are lengthening now,' Mary said. 'I do not feel inclined for bed.
Leave me, mother, to make all safe.'

'As you will,' was the reply. 'I'll hear what you have to say about Lucy
to-morrow. Jabez Coleman says we are sending her to the jaws of the lion by
this move, and that she will never return, or like you--'

'Spare me, mother!' Mary said. 'I cannot bear much more to-night.'

'Much more! Sure, Mary, you make an ado about nothing. What have you to
bear, I'd like to know, with a roof over your head, and your child fed and
clothed? Bear indeed!' and with a low, mocking laugh, Mistress Forrester
stumped with her heavy tread up the stairs which led to the upper floor
from the further