there then," said Margaret; "for I am dried up for
want of dew from heaven."

"Why, he preacheth again this afternoon. But mayhap you are wanted
here."

"Not she," said Catherine. "Come, away ye go, if y'are minded."

"Indeed," said Margaret, "methinks I should not be such a damper at
table if I could come to 't warm from a good sermon."

"Then you must be brisk," observed Joan. "See the folk are wending that
way, and as I live, there goes the holy friar. Oh, bless us and save us,
Margaret; the hermit! We forgot." And this active woman bounded out of
the house, and ran across the road, and stopped the friar. She returned
as quickly. "There, I was bent on seeing him nigh hand."

"What said he to thee?"

"Says he, 'My daughter, I will go to him ere sunset, God willing.' The
sweetest voice. But oh, my mistresses, what thin cheeks for a young man,
and great eyes, not far from your colour, Margaret."

"I have a great mind to go hear him," said Margaret. "But my cap is not
very clean, and they will all be there in their snow-white mutches."

"There, take my handkerchief out of the basket," said Catherine; "you
cannot have the child, I want him for my poor Kate. It is one of her ill
days."

Margaret replied by taking the boy upstairs. She found Kate in bed.

"How art thou, sweetheart? Nay, I need not ask. Thou art in sore pain;
thou smilest so, See,' I have brought thee one thou lovest."

"Two, by my way of counting," said Kate, with an angelic smile. She had
a spasm at that moment would have made some of us roar like bulls.

"What, in your lap?" said Margaret, answering a gesture of the suffering
girl. "Nay, he is too heavy, and thou in such pain."

"I love him too dear to feel his weight," was the reply.

Margaret took this opportunity, and made her toilet. "I am for the
kerk," said she, "to hear a beautiful preacher." Kate sighed. "And a
minute ago, Kate, I was all agog to go; that is the way with me this
month past; up and down, up and down, like the waves of the Zuyder Zee.
I'd as lieve stay aside thee; say the word!"

"Nay," said Kate, "prithee go; and bring me back every word. Well-a-day
that I cannot go myself." And the tears stood in the patient's eyes.
This decided Margaret, and she kissed Kate, looked under her lashes at
the boy, and heaved a little sigh. "I trow I must not," said she. "I
never could kiss him a little; and my father was dead against waking
a child by day or night When 'tis thy pleas