hreadbare gown and old
clouted shoes, then she's not for their company. There's a many of that
sort."

"And you think Master Clere's one?" said Margaret, in a tone which
sounded as if she did not think so.

"I'm feared he is. I'd not say it if there wasn't need. But if you see
Bess afore I do--and you are more like, for you go into town oftener--do
drop a word to her to be prudent."

"Tell Elizabeth Foulkes to be prudent!" exclaimed Margaret, laughing.
"Nay, that were carrying coals to Newcastle!"

"Well, and the day may come for that, if the pits there be used up.
Meg, have you ne'er noted that folks oftener come to trouble for want of
their chief virtue than from overdoing it?"

"Nay, Alice, nor I don't think it, neither."

"Well, let be!" said Alice, shifting the basket to her other arm. "Them
that lives 'll see it."

"But what mean you touching Mistress Amy! You said you were feared
she'd make trouble for Bess."

"Ay, I am: but that's another matter. We've fault-found enough for one
even. Who be them two afore us?"

"What, those bits of children? Why, they're two of Jack Johnson's, of
Thorpe."

"They look as if they'd got too much to carry," said Alice, as they came
up to the children. They were now about half way to Bentley.

The younger, a boy of about six, held one ear of a large jar full of
meal, and the other was carried by his sister, whose apparent age was
eight. They were plodding slowly along, as if afraid of spilling their
meal, for the jar was pretty full.

"Well, Cis, thou hast there a load!" was Margaret's greeting.

The little girl turned her head to see who spoke, but she only said
gravely, "Ay." A very grave, demure little maiden she seemed to be.

"Whither go you?" asked Alice Mount.

"We're going home," said the small boy.

"What, a matter of five miles, with that jar? Why, you'll drop in the
road! Couldn't nobody have fetched it but you?"

"There wasn't nobody," said the little boy; and his sister looked up to
say, in her grave way,--

"You know Mother's gone to Heaven."

"And who looks after you?"

"Will looks after Baby," answered Cissy demurely, "and I look after
Will."

"And who looks after thee?" asked Alice much amused.

"I'm older than I look," replied Cissy, drawing herself up; but she was
not big enough to go far.

"I'm nine--going in ten. I can make porridge, and clean the room and
wash Baby. And Will's learning to wash himself, and then he'l