elier, that is alway up and down hereabout, he said unto
him that he would not for no money that he should learn to read the
Evangel, for that it should do him a mischief. What think you, Mistress
Agnes?"

"Methinks, Will, thou shalt do well to give good heed unto the Black
Friar, and to thy master at the school, and leave Christie Marvell a-be
with his idle talk."

"Nay, go to, Mistress Agnes! 'tis Father Dan's talk."

"Then tarry till Father Dan tell thee so much himself. It may well be
that Christie took not his words rightly."

"Ay," said the child, doubtfully. "But what manner of mischief, think
you, meant he? Should it cast a spell on me, or give me the ague?"

Little Will, as we have already seen, was the child of a superstitious
mother. To hear the tap of a death-watch was sufficient to make
Mistress Flint lose a night's sleep; and a person who disbelieved in
fairies she would have considered next door to a reprobate. But Agnes
was remarkably free from such ideas for her time, when few were entirely
devoid of them; and she laughed at little Will's fancy.

"Well," said he, "any way, when I can read in the great Bible, Mistress
Agnes, then will I read unto you, and you shall come to the Minster and
hear me. Christie's mother saith there be right pretty stories
therein."

Like many another in those days, into the household of Henry and Cicely
Marvell, the Gospel had brought not peace, but a sword. The husband, a
stern, morose man, was fondly attached to the beggarly elements of Roman
ceremonials; while the wife had received and hidden the Word in her
heart, and though too much afraid of her husband to venture far,
contrived now and then to drop a word for Christ's Gospel. Christie,
the troublesome boy, cared for none of these things, and made game of
the views of each parent in turn.

Agnes smilingly bade good-bye to her ambitious little friend Will, for
they had now reached Mistress Winter's door. A scolding awaited her, as
usual, first for "dawdling," and then for spilling a few drops of water
on the brick floor as she set down the heavy pails. But Agnes scarcely
heeded it, for her mind was full of a new project. It would be some
time before little Will could read, and longer still before he could see
over the Minster desk, where the great Bible lay chained. But why
should she wait for that? She dimly remembered, in long past days, when
her aunt was living, having several times gone with he