eformation.
(Though, of a truth, the _Papists_ have of late took up a cry that afore
the Reformation the Church of _England_ was not, and did only then
spring into being. As good say I was not _Joyce Morrell_ this morrow
until I washed my face.) Then, when King _Harry_ died--and it was none
too soon for this poor realm--came the goodly days of our young _Josiah_
King _Edward_, which were the true reforming of the Church; that which
went afore were rather playing at reform. Men's passions were too much
mixed up with it. But after the blue sky returned the tempest. Ay me,
those five years of Queen _Mary_, what they be to look back on!
Howbeit, matters were worser in the shires and down south than up
hither. Old Bishop _Tunstall_ was best of all the _Papist_ Bishops, for
though he flustered much (and as some thought, to save himself from
suspicion of them in power), yet he did little more. I well-nigh gat
mine head into a noose, for it ne'er was my way to carry my flag furled,
and Father _Slatter_, that was then priest at _Minster Lovel_, as I
know, had my name set of his list of persons suspect. Once come the
catchpoll to mine house,--I wis not on what business, for, poor man! he
tarried not to tell me when I come at him with the red-hot poker. I
never wist a man yet, would stand a red-hot poker with a woman behind it
that meant it for him. Master Catchpoll were wise enough to see that
the penny is well spent that saveth a groat, and he gave me leave to see
little more of him than his flying skirts and the nails of his boots--
and his hat, that he left behind of his hurry, the which I sent down to
my mistress his wife with mine hearty commendations, and hope he had
catched no cold. I reckon he preferred the risk of that to the surety
of catching a red-hot poker. But that giving me warning of what might
follow--as a taste of a dish whereof more should be anon laid on my
trencher--up-stairs went I, and made up my little bundle, and the next
night that ever was, away came I of an horse behind old _Dickon_, that
had been sewer ever since _Father_ and _Mother_ were wed, then
five-and-thirty years gone, and Father _Slatter_ might whistle for me,
as I reckon he did when he heard it. It were an hard journey and a
cold, for it were winter, but the snow was our true friend in covering
all tracks, and at long last came I safe hither, in the middle of the
night, and astonied _Aubrey_ and _Lettice_ more than a little by cas