e Evangels, Mother?"

"Did ever one see such a lad to put questions?" demanded Mistress Flint.
"Why, child, they be writ in the great Bible, that lieth chained in the
Minster."

"What be they about, Mother?"

"Come, lad, if I tarry to answer all thy talk, thou shalt not be abed
this even," responded Mistress Flint discreetly; for this was a query
which she would have found it hard to answer; and with a playful show of
peremptoriness, she drove Will and Dickon upstairs to the bedchamber, in
which slept the five boys of the family.

There was a minute's silence, only broken by the movements of Helen and
Anne, who were putting away the bowls, jugs, and trenchers which had
been used at supper, when suddenly Mr Flint said--to nobody in
particular--

"What _be_ they about?"

His daughters looked up, and then resumed their occupation, with a shake
of the head from Anne, and a little laugh from Helen.

"Methinks, Master," said Agnes rather diffidently, "'tis about God, and
His love to men."

"What thereabout?" replied he, continuing to look into the fire.

"Why, Master," said Agnes, "surely you do wit better than I."

"Well, I wit nought thereabout, nor never want," said Anne a little
pettishly. "'Twill be time enough when I have the years o' my grandame,
I guess, to make me crabbed and gloomsome."

Agnes looked at her in amazement.

"Nan," said her father, "I heard thee this morrow a-singing of a
love-song."

"Well, so may you yet again," said she, laughing.

"That made thee not gloomsome, trow?" he asked.

"Never a whit! how should it?" replied Anne, still laughing.

"Let be! but 'tis queer," said he, rising. "Man's love is merry gear;
but God's love is crabbed stuff. 'Tis a strange world, my maids."

Both Helen and Anne broke into a peal of laughter; but Mr Flint was
grave enough. He walked through the kitchen, and out at the front door,
without saying more.

"What hath come o'er Father of late?" said Helen. "He is fallen to ask
as queer questions as Will."

"What know I?" replied Anne, "or care, for the matter of that. Come,
Nell, let us sing a bit, to cheer us!"

It struck Agnes that there was not much want of cheer in that house; but
Helen readily responded to her sister's wish, and they struck up a
popular song.

"The hunt is up, the hunt is up,
The hunt is up and away,
And Harry our King is gone hunting,
To bring his deer to bay.

"The east is bright with morning light,