"You'll have your thrum hat, did you say? [Note 1.] Where's the good
of crying over it? You've got ne'er a thing to cry for."

Another little rush of sobs replied, amid which a quick ear could detect
the words "unfeeling" and "me a poor widow."

"Unfeeling, marry!" said the elder sister. "I'm feeling a whole warm
petticoat for you. And tears won't ward off either cramp or rheumatism,
my dear--don't think it; but a warm petticoat may. Will you have it, or
no?"

"Oh, as you please!" was the answer, in a tone which might have suited
arrangements for the speaker's funeral.

"Then I please to put it in the saddle-bag," cheerily responded the
elder. "Lettice, come with me, maid. I can find thee work above in the
chamber."

A slight sound behind the screen, at the farther end of the parlour,
which sheltered the widow from any draught proceeding from the window,
was followed by the appearance of a young girl not hitherto visible.
She was just eighteen years of age, and resembled neither of the elder
ladies, being handsomer than either of them had ever been, yet not
sufficiently so to be termed beautiful. A clear complexion, rosy but
not florid, golden-brown hair and plenty of it, dark grey eyes shaded by
dark lashes, and a pleasing, good-humoured, not self-conscious
expression--this was Lettice, who said in a clear musical voice, "Yes,
Aunt," and stood ready for further orders.

As the door shut upon the aunt and niece, the former said, as if to the
sister left behind in the parlour--

"A poor widow! Ay, forsooth, poor soul, that you are! for you have made
of your widowhood so black a pall that you cannot see God's blue sky
through it. Dear heart, but why ever they called her Faith, and me
Temperance! I've well-nigh as little temperance as she has faith, and
neither of them would break a cat's back."

By this time they were up in the bedchamber; and Lettice was kept busy
folding, pinning, tying up, and smoothing out one garment after another,
until at last her aunt said--

"Now, Lettice, bring thine own gear, such as thou wilt need till we
light at Minster Lovel, for there can we shift our baggage. Thy black
beaver hat thou wert best to journey in, for though it be good, 'tis
well worn; and thy grey kirtle and red gown. Bring the blue gown, and
the tawny kirtle with the silver aglets [tags, spangles] pendant, and
thy lawn rebatoes, [turn-over collar] and a couple of kerchiefs, and thy
satin hat Thou w