ars, "and reasonable
rich to boot."

"Marry, yonder's a jolly hearing!" said her mother.

"How so," asked Mr Flint, pursing up his lips, "without he make us a
gift of his riches?"

"Dear heart alive!" suddenly ejaculated Mistress Flint, turning round on
Helen. "How many a score o' times must I tell thee, Nell, that to lay
thy knife and spoon the one across the other is the unluckiest thing in
all this world, saving only the breaking of a steel glass
[looking-glass], and a winding-sheet in the candle? Lay them straight
along this minute, child! Dear, dear; but to think of it!"

Helen, in some perturbation, altered her knife and spoon to the required
positions.

"Now, Agnes, dear heart, prithee get some flesh o' thy bones!" said
Mistress Flint, returning to her usual cheery manner. "Good lack! I
love not to see a maid so like to a scarecrow as thou. Come now,
another shive of mutton? well, then, a piece o' th' pasty--do! Eh, in
good sooth, thou mayest well look white. Now, Will and Dickon, lads,
'tis time ye were abed."

Will and Dickon, thus addressed, promptly knelt down, one on each side
of his mother, and Will proceeded to gabble over his prayers, followed
by Dickon with articulate sounds which had no other merit than that of
bearing some resemblance to the words in question.

The boys commenced by crossing themselves, then they raced through the
Paternoster, the Angelical Salutation, and the Creed, all in Latin; of
course without the faintest idea of any meaning. They then repeated a
short prayer in English, entreating the Virgin, their guardian angels,
and their patron saints, to protect them during the night. This done,
Will rattled off half a dozen lines (carefully emphasising the
insignificant words), which alone of all the proceeding had either
interest or meaning in his eyes.

"Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John,
Bless the bed that I lie on:
Four corners to my bed,
Four angels at their head--
One to read, and one to write,
And two to guard my bed at night."

"Good lads!" said Mistress Flint, as she rose and restored the crucifix
which she had been holding before the boys to its usual place.

"Mother!" said Will, who was inconveniently intelligent, "who be
Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John? Doth it mean Luke Dobbs, and Father?"

Mr Flint indulged himself in a quiet laugh.

"Nay, dear heart!" answered his mother. "Those be the holy Apostles,
that writ the Evangels."

"What be th