r on Sunday
afternoons to vespers in the Cathedral, and heard some one reading at
the desk in the nave. Then she had not cared to listen. Why should she
not go to hear it now?

Of political events Agnes knew little, and thought less. She could
barely have told who was on the throne, had she been asked. She had
watched alike tumult and pageant without any intelligent notion of what
was passing. Nor had she any idea that during those past days, when
such things had no interest for her, the opportunity of using them had
been passing away; and that in a very few weeks the public reading of
the Bible would be perilous to those who had the courage to dare it.
Imprisonment would soon await any layman who should dare to read to
another the Word of Life.

It often occurred that projects had to dwell in Agnes's mind for some
time before she had an opportunity to put them into execution. That
such should be the case with this one gave her no surprise. Generally
speaking, after mass on Sunday, Joan and Dorothy donned their finest
clothes, and went out on a merry-making expedition, while Mistress
Winter, also in grand array, preferred to entertain her neighbours at
home. She considered Agnes on these occasions as one too many, and
usually contrived to send her on some errand to a distance; but now and
then, when no errand was forthcoming, she had the Sunday afternoon to
herself. Five Sundays passed after the project had taken shape in her
mind, and no leisure had yet come to Agnes. The Saturday arrived, the
eve of the sixth Sunday, and she was still in expectation of fulfilling
her hopes in some happy future. The hope was communicated to Cicely
Marvell, whom Agnes met in returning from the pump, with certainty of
sympathy on her part.

The full pails were only just set down on the kitchen floor, when in
bustled Mistress Flint, with a dish-cloth in her hand, which she had not
waited to lay down, so eager was she to utter what she came to say.

"Go to, Gossip Winter! Heard you the news?"

"News, gramercy! Who e'er hath the grace to tell me a shred thereof?"
returned Mistress Winter crustily. "What now, Gossip?"

"Forsooth, the King's Grace is departed."

"Alack the day! Who saith it?"

"Marry, my Lord Mayor himself hath proclaimed it at the Cross, and as
Monday are my Lords of the Council to ride unto the Tower for to salute
the new Queen."

"The new Queen! Who is she, belike?" demanded Mistress Winter, who