l be set with carrots and cabbages, that can
be sold. And on my return hither, I must set me, as fast as I may, unto
the making of _pecunia_, as Simon hath it, in my calling. Metrusteth
the house shall not need to be pulled down and built up again; for that
should take, methinks, some years to raise. Howbeit, 'tis no good
looking forward too far."

Dr Thorpe said, when he had sat for a time in silence, "Ah, well! the
will of the Lord be done! I trow they shall scantly burn mine other
house, in that city which hath foundations."

"Mr Edward Underhill, the Hot Gospeller."

Isoult Avery looked up and rose when John made this announcement, to the
evident amusement of the person introduced.

The Hot Gospeller's age was thirty-seven; of his personal appearance we
have no trustworthy account. It may safely be asserted that his
feelings were strong, his affections warm, his partisanship fervent, and
his organ of humour decidedly developed. I picture him lithe and quick,
with ready tongue and brilliant eyes; but perhaps I am as much mistaken
as Isoult was concerning Alice Wikes. If the mania "_de faire son
portrait_" which was so much the fashion in France in the reign of Louis
the Fourteenth had pervaded England in the sixteenth century, we might
have obtained much curious information which is now lost to us.

When all the members of our little group were gathered round the
dinner-table,--which was not until eleven a.m., for the Averys dined
unusually late that day--Dr Thorpe laid the subject which had been
discussed before Mr Underhill, and requested his opinion on the matter.
Could he find a man for the time?

Isoult shook her head dubiously.

"With whom take you part?" said Dr Thorpe.

"With both of you," answered Mr Underhill. "I lean to Mistress Avery's
thought that there is no man for the time; but I do partly share your
opinion, in that methinks there may be a woman."

"A woman, Mr Underhill?" cried Isoult, in amazement.

"What woman?" said Dr Thorpe. "My Lady Duchess of Suffolk, I ween.
Nay, Master; she is good enough as may be, but her money-bags are a
sight scantier than when my Lord Duke was in life."

"My Lady of Suffolk! not she, forsooth," replied he. "Nay, good Doctor;
mine hopes are anchored (under God) on none other than the King's `sweet
sister Temperance'--my young Lady Elizabeth's Grace."

"The Lady Elizabeth!" repeated Dr Thorpe, in a voice which intimated his
meaning. "A child at h