ester, but at Much Bentley, about eight miles from the town, in a
south-easterly direction.

"I marvel," said Margaret, as the two pursued their way across the
heath, "how Bessy Foulkes shall make way with them twain."

"Do you so?" answered Alice. "Truly, I marvel more how she shall make
way with the third."

"What, Mistress Amy?"

Alice nodded.

"But why? There's no harm in her, trow?"

"She means no harm," said Alice. "But there's many an one, Meg, as
doesn't mean a bit of harm, and does a deal for all that. I'm feared
for Bessy."

"But I can't see what you're feared for."

"These be times for fear," said Alice Mount. "Neighbour, have you
forgot last August?"

"Eh! no, trust me!" cried Margaret. "Didn't I quake for fear, when my
master came in, and told me you were taken afore the justices! Truly, I
reckoned he and I should come the next. I thank the good Lord that
stayed their hands!"

"'Tis well we be on the Heath," said Alice, glancing round, as if to see
whether they could be overheard. "If we spake thus in the streets of
Colchester, neighbour, it should cost us dear."

"Well, I do hate to be so careful!"

"Folks cannot have alway what they would," said Alice, "But you know,
neighbour, Bessy Foulkes is one of us."

"Well, what then? So's Master Clere."

Alice made no answer.

"What mean you, Alice Mount? Master Clere's a Gospeller, and has been
this eight years or more."

"I did not gainsay it, Meg."

"Nay, you might not gainsay it, but you looked as if you would if you
opened your mouth."

"Well, neighbour, my brother at Stoke Nayland sells a horse by nows and
thens: and the last time I was yonder, a gentleman came to buy one.
There was a right pretty black one, and a bay not quite so well-looking.
Says the gentleman to Gregory, `I'd fainer have the black, so far as
looks go; but which is the better horse?' Quoth Gregory, `Well, Master,
that hangs on what you mean to do with him. If you look for him to make
a pretty picture in your park, and now and then to carry you four or
five mile, why, he'll do it as well as e'er a one; but if you want him
for good, stiff work, you'd best have the bay. The black's got no stay
in him,' saith he. So, Meg, that's what I think of Master Clere--he's
got no stay in him. I doubt he's but one of your fair-weathered folks,
that'll side with Truth when she steps bravely forth in her satin gown
and her velvet slippers; but when she comes in a t