me twelve years, was renowned
in Cow Lane for the exact opposite.

The day was drawing towards evening, when Agnes, as she turned round
from emptying a pail of dirty water into the common sewer of Cow Lane,
detected the burly figure of Father Dan, the Cordelier Friar, who was
Mistress Winter's family confessor, coming up from Seacoal Lane. Not
without some fears of his errand, she waited till he came near, and then
humbly louted--the ancient English reverence, now conventionally
supposed to be restricted to charity children.

"Christ save all here!" said the priest, holding up three fingers in the
style of benediction peculiar to his Order.

Taking no further notice of Agnes, he marched within, to be cordially
welcomed, and his blessing begged, by Mistress Winter and Dorothy; for
Joan was gone to see the bear-baiting in Southwark.

Father Dan was a priest of the popular type--florid, fat, and jovial.
His penances were light and easy to those who had it in their power to
ask him to dinner, or to make gifts to his Order. It might be that they
were all the harder to those from whom such favours were not expected.

The Cordelier took his seat at the supper-table just laid by Dorothy,
this being an easy and dainty style of work in which that young lady
condescended to employ her delicate hands. Mistress Winter was busily
occupied with a skillet containing some savoury compound, and the
Friar's eyes twinkled with expectant gastronomic delight as he watched
the proceedings of his hostess. Supper being at last ready, the three
prepared to do justice to it, while Agnes waited upon them. A golden
flood of buttered eggs was poured upon the dish in front of the Friar, a
cherry pie stood before Dorothy, while Mistress Winter, her sleeves
rolled up, and her widow's barb [Note 2] laid aside because of the heat,
was energetically attacking some ribs of beef.

"Had Joan no purpose to be back for supper, Doll?" demanded her mother.

"Nay," said Dorothy; "Mall Whitelock bade her to supper in Long Lane. I
heard them discoursing of the same."

"And what news abroad, Father?" asked Mistress Winter. "Pray you, give
me leave to help you to another shive of the beef. Agnes, thou lither
[wicked] jade, whither hast set the mustard?"

Father Dan's news was of a minute type. He was no intellectual
philosopher, no profound conspirator; he was indeed slightly interested
in the advancement of the Church, and much more deeply so in th