to see to do anything by them even when they did
not get blown out, and when the sun had set there was nothing for it,
but as soon as the few cattle had been foddered in their shed and cave,
to draw the mat and sheepskins that made a curtain by way of door,
fasten it down with a stone, share with dog and cat the supper of broth,
or milk, or porridge which Patience had cooked, and then lie down on
the beds of dried leaves stuffed into sacking, drawing over them the
blankets and cloaks that had happily been saved in the chest, and
nestling on either side of the fire, which, if well managed, would
smoulder on for hours. There the two elder ones would teach Rusha her
catechism and tell old stories, and croon over old rhymes till both the
little ones were asleep, and then would hold counsel on their affairs,
settle how to husband their small stock of money, consider how soon it
would be expedient to finish their store of salted mutton and pork to
keep them from being spoilt by damp, and wonder when their hens would
begin to lay.

It could hardly be a merry Christmas for the poor children, though they
did stick holly in every chink where it would go, but there were not
many berries that year, and as Rusha said, "there were only thorns."

Steadfast walked to Bristol through slush and mire and rain, not even
Smith Blane went with him, deeming the weather too bad, and thinking,
perhaps, rather over much of the goose at home.

Bristol people were keeping Christmas with all their might, making the
more noise and revelry because the Parliament had forbidden the feast to
be observed at all. It was easy to tell who was for the King and who for
the Parliament, for there were bushes of holly, mistletoe, and ivy, at
all the Royalist doors and windows, and from many came the savoury steam
of roast beef or goose, while the other houses were shut up as close as
possible and looked sad and grim.

All the bells of all the churches were ringing, and everybody seemed to
be trooping into them. As Steadfast was borne along by the throng, there
was a pause, and a boy of his own age with a large hat and long feather,
beneath which could be seen curls of jet-black hair, walked at the head
of a party of gentlemen. Everyone in the crowd uncovered and there was
a vehement outcry of "God save the King! God save the Prince of Wales!"
Everyone thronged after him, and Steadfast had a hard struggle to
squeeze into the Cathedral, and then had to stand a