one moment Rose was
silent, during which she cried silently but most earnestly to God for
wisdom and courage--wisdom to keep her from saying what might bring them
into needless danger, and courage to stand true and firm to God and His
truth.

"Might I be so bold as to pray you, Father," she said at last, "to ask
at my mother the cause of such absence from mass? You wot I am but a
young maid, and under direction of mine elders."

Sir Thomas Tye smiled to himself. He thought Rose a very cautious,
prudent girl, who did not want to bring herself into trouble.

"So be it, my daughter," said he in the same gentle way. "Doubtless it
was by direction of thine elders that then wert absent aforetime, ere ye
were had up to the Bishop."

He meant it as a question, by which he hoped to entangle poor Rose. She
was wise enough not to answer, but to let it pass as if he were merely
giving his own opinion, about which she did not wish to say anything.

"Crafty girl!" thought Sir Thomas. Then he said aloud,--"The festival
of our Lady cometh on apace: ye will surely have some little present for
our blessed Lady?"

The Virgin Mary was then called "Our Lady."

"We be but poor folks," said Rose. "Truly, I know ye be poor folks,"
was the priest's reply. "Yet even poor folks do oft contrive to
pleasure their friends by some little present. And if ye might bring no
more than an handful of daisies from the field, yet is our Lady so
gracious that she will deign to accept even so small an offering. Ye
need not be empty-handed."

"I trust we shall do our duty," said poor Rose, in great perplexity.
"Father, I cry you mercy if I stay me here, for I would fain speak with
the woman of this cot."

"So do, my daughter," was the soft reply, "and I will call here belike,
for I do desire to speak with Thurston." Poor Rose was at her wit's
end. Her little manoeuvre had not succeeded as she hoped. She wanted
to be rid of the unwelcome company of the priest; and now it seemed as
if, by calling on Margaret Thurston instead of going straight home, she
would only get more of it. However, she must do it now. She had
nothing particular to say to Margaret, whom she had already seen that
day, though her mother had said after Margaret was gone, that she wished
she had told her something, and Rose meant to use this remark as
furnishing an excuse.

She tapped, lifted the latch, and went in, the priest following.

John Thurston sat by the fir