st held himself to be a yeoman in a small way, and somewhat above
a Christmas feast with the poor, but the Dean's kindness was enough to
make him put away his pride, and then there was such a delicious steam
coming up from the buttery hatch as was enough to melt away all nonsense
of that sort from a hungry lad.

Grand joints of beef came up in clouds of vapour, and plum puddings
smoked in their rear, to be eaten with them, after the fashion of these
days, when of summer vegetables there were few, and of winter vegetables
none. The choirmen and boys, indeed all the Cathedral clergy who were
unmarried, were dining there too, but the Dean and his wife waited on
the table where the poorest were. Horns of ale were served to everyone,
and then came big mince pies. Steadfast felt a great longing to take
his home to his sisters, but he was ashamed to do it, even though he saw
that it was permissible, they were such beggarly-looking folks who set
the example.

However, the Dean's wife came up to him with a pleasant smile and asked
if he had no appetite or if he were thinking of someone at home, and
when he answered, she kindly undertook to lend him a basket, for which
he might call after evensong, and in the basket were also afterwards
found some slices of the beef and a fine large cake.

Then the young Prince and his suite came in, and he stood at the end of
the hall, smiling and looking amused as everyone's cup was filled with
wine--such wine as the Roundhead captains had left, and the Dean at the
head of the table gave out the health of his most sacred Majesty King
Charles, might God bless him, and confound all his enemies! The Prince
bared his black shining locks and drank, and there was a deep Amen,
and then a hurrah enough to rend the old vaulted ceiling; and equally
enthusiastically was the Prince's health afterwards drunk.

Stead heard the servants saying that such a meal had been a costly
matter, but that the good Dean would have it so in order that one more
true merry Christmas should be remembered in Bristol.

CHAPTER X. A TERRIBLE HARVEST DAY.

"There is a reaper, whose name is death."
LONGFELLOW.

Spring came at last, cold indeed but dry, and it brought calves, and
kids, and lambs, and little pigs, besides eggs and milk. The creatures
prospered for two reasons no doubt. One was that Stead and Patience
always prayed for a blessing on them, and the other was th