could get the chick out. Lord, he was a jackanapes, surely; but we all
made much of him.'

'He has been very sick with fever,' Lucy said, 'and, I dare say,
marvellously changed in four years. You are changed, Ned,' Lucy said; 'you
are grown a big man.'

'Ay,' Ned said, tugging at the mouth of the calf, which showed a strong
inclination to kick out, and butt with his pretty head against Ned's ribs.
'Ay; and I _am_ a man, Mistress Lucy. I have courted Avice; and--well--we
were asked in church last Sunday.'

'I am right glad to hear it, Ned; and I wish you happiness. I must go
forward now to the house.'

'I say!--hold! Mistress Lucy!' Ned said, with shamefaced earnestness.
'Don't think me too free and bold--but are you never going to wed? You are
a bit cruel to one I could name.'

This was said with such fervour, mingled with fear lest Lucy should be
offended, that she could not help smiling as she turned away, saying,--

'The poor calf will kick itself wild if you stay here much longer. So,
good-day to you, good Ned; and I will send Avice a wedding gift. I have a
pretty blue kerchief that will suit her of which I have no need; for we are
all in sombre mourning garments for the great and good lord and lady of
Penshurst.'

Lucy found her stepmother seated in the old place on the settle, but not
alone. 'Her master,' as she called him with great truth, was with her, and
two of 'the chosen ones,' who were drinking mead and munching cakes from a
pile on the board.

He invited Lucy to partake of the fare, but she declined, and, having told
her stepmother the news about Mary, she did not feel much disposed to
remain.

'The boy found, do you say?' snarled her stepmother's husband. 'It would
have been a cause of thankfulness if that young limb of the Evil One had
never been found. You may tell your sister, Mistress Lucy, that neither her
boy nor herself will ever darken these doors. We want no Papists here.'

'Nay, nay, no Papists,' echoed one of the brethren, with his mouth full of
cake.

'Nay, nay,' chimed in another, as he set down the huge cup of mead after a
prolonged pull. 'No Papists here to bring a curse upon the house.'

Lucy could not help feeling pity for her stepmother, who sat knitting on
the settle--her once voluble tongue silenced, her mien dejected and
forlorn. Lucy bent down and kissed her, saying in a low voice,--

'You are glad, I know, Mary has found her child.'

And the answer came almost in a