ak to me of heavenly
things? There is no wit in such stuff."

"See you, _Mynheer_," saith _Father_, again laughing, "even here in
_Selwick_ Hall, where I trust we be little given to quarrel, yet the
clocks keep not all one time."

"Eh! No!" saith _Mynheer_, shrugging of his shoulders and smiling.
"The gentlewomen, they be very determined in their own opinions."

"Well, I own, I like to see things decent," saith Aunt _Joyce_. "I
desire not to have back the Popish albs and such like superstitious
gauds--not I: but I do like to see a parson in a clean white surplice,
and I would be right sorry were it laid aside."

Cousin _Bess_ said nought, but wagged her head, and tare her flannel in
twain.

"Now, I dare be bound, _Bess_, thou countest me gone half-way back to
_Rome_," saith Aunt _Joyce_.

"That were nigh the _Via Mala_," quoth _Father_.

"Eh, Mistress _Joyce_, I'll judge no man, nor no woman," makes answer
Cousin _Bess_. "The Lord looketh on the heart; and 'tis well for us He
doth, for if we were judged by what other folk think of us, I reckon we
should none of us come so well off. But them white flying kites be rags
of _Popery_, that _will_ I say,--yea, and stand to."

"Which side be you, _Father_?" asks _Anstace_.

"Well, my lass," saith he, "though I see not, mine own self, the Pope
and all his Cardinals to lurk in the folds of Dr _Meade's_ white
surplice, and I am bound to say his tall, portly figure carrieth it off
rarely, yet I do right heartily respect _Bess_ her scruple, and desire
to abstain from that which she counteth the beginnings of _evil_."

"Now, I warrant you, _Bess_ shall reckon that, of carrying it off well,
to be the lust of the eye," saith Aunt _Joyce_. "She's a bit of a
_Mennonite_, is _Bess_."

"Eh, Mistress _Joyce_, pray you, give me not such an ill word!" saith
Cousin _Bess_, reproachfully. "I never cared for Mammon, not I. I'd be
thankful for a crust of bread and a cup of water, and say grace o'er him
with _Amen_."

We all laughed, and _Father_ saith--

"Nay, _Bess_, thou takest _Joyce_ wrong. In that of the _Mennonites_,
she would say certain men of whom _Mynheer_ told us a few days gone,
that should think all things pleasurable and easeful to be wrong."

"Good lack, Mistress _Joyce_, but I'm none so bad as that!" saith
_Bess_. "I'm sure, when I make gruel for whoso it be, I leave no lumps
in, nor let it burn neither."

"No, dear heart, thou art only a _Mennonite_