er, on
_Starlight_, with _Adam_ afore her: and behind trudged _Kate_ and
_Kitling_. And by the same token, _Moses_ came a-mewing to the door to
see us depart.

So came we to the church, and there found afore us my Lord _Dilston_ and
his following, that had rowed over from _Lord's Island_, whereon of old
time the Barons of _Dilston_ [the Radcliffes, subsequently created Earls
of Derwentwater] have had an house (I am mindful of strangers the which
shall read our chronicle, which is more, I reckon, than _Nell_ shall
have been), and in good sooth, but Mistress _Jane_ is fair of face, and
I do love to look upon her. Well, of course, _Father_ being but a
knight, we stood of one side to let pass a baron: and when all they were
gone up, went up we, in due order, _Father_ handing _Mother_, and
_Mynheer_ with Aunt _Joyce_, and then Cousin _Bess_ and we three maids.
And there was Dr _Meade_ with his white rag of _Popery_ (as Cousin
_Bess_ will have it) a-flying behind him as he came from the vestry: and
I might not forbear to give a little pinch to _Edith_ as I saw it fly.
'Tis to no good to pinch _Nell_, for she doth but kill me with a look.
And there, of either side (which I had nigh forgot), stood the common
folk, the townsfolk, and the lead-miners from _Vicar's Island_
[anciently belonging to Fountains Abbey] and such like, all a-gaping and
a-staring on us as we went by, to see the baron and the knight. And eh,
but I do love to be gaped on! 'Tis the best bit of all the _Sunday_,
for me.

(Now, _Mother_, you said I was to write what I thought.)

Then come matins, which one has to sit through, of course: the only good
matter being the chants. I can sing out, and I do. Then come the
sermon, which is unto me sore weariness, and I gape through it as I best
may. Dear heart, what matter is it to me if _Peter_ were ever at _Rome_
or no, or if Saint _James_ and _Paul_ do both say the same thing
touching faith and works? We have all faith--say we not the Creed every
_Sunday_? and what would you have more? And as to works, I hate good
works. Good works always means doing the very thing you would rather
not. 'Tis good works to carry a pudding to old _Nanny Crewdson_ through
a lane where I nigh lose my shoes in the mire, right at the time when I
want to bide at home and play the virginals. Or 'tis sitting of a chair
and reading of _Luther's_ Commentary on the _Galatians_ to one of my
betters, when my very toes be tingling to