only men who stoop low
enough for that. The highest work possible to men or angels is just
doing the will of God: and God was the Father of these little ones.

"What is their Father?" asked Alice Mount.

"Johnson? Oh, he is a labouring man--a youngish man, only
four-and-thirty: his mistress died a matter of six months back, and
truly I know not how those bits of children have done since."

"They have had `God and Father,'" said Alice "Well, I've no doubt he's a
good father," answered Margaret. "John Johnson is as good a man as ever
stepped, I'll say that for him: and so was Helen a rare good woman. I
knew her well when we were maids together. Those children have been
well fetched up, take my word for it."

"It must have been a sad matter to lose such a wife," said Alice.

"Well, what think you?" answered Margaret, dropping her voice. "Agnes
Love told me--Jack Love's wife, that dwells on the Heath--you'll maybe
know her?"

"Ay, I know her, though not well."

"I've known her ever since she was a yard long. Well, she told me, the
even it happed came Jack Johnson to their house, and when she oped the
door, she was fair feared of him, he looked so strange--his face all
white, and such a glitter of his eyes--she marvelled what had taken him.
And says he, `Agnes, my Helen's gone.' `Gone? oh dear!' says she.
`Ay, she's gone, thank God!' says he. Well, Agnes thought this right
strange talk, and says she, `Jack Johnson, what can you mean? Never was
a better woman than your Helen, and you thanking God you've lost her!'
`Nay, Agnes, could you think that?' says he. `I'm thanking God because
now I shall never see her stand up on the waste by Lexden Road,' says
he. `She's safe from that anguish for evermore!' And you know what
that meant."

Yes, Alice Mount knew what that meant--that allusion to the waste ground
by Colchester town wall on the road to Lexden, where the citizens shot
their rubbish, and buried their dead animals, or threw them unburied,
and burned their martyrs. It was another way of saying what the Voice
from Heaven had cried to the Apostle--"Blessed are the dead that die in
the Lord from henceforth!"

"It's a marvel they haven't done somewhat to them Loves afore now," said
Margaret, after a minute's silence.

"I thought they had?" replied Alice. "Wasn't John Love up afore the
Sheriff once at any rate?"

"Oh, ay, they've had him twice o'er; don't you mind they gat them away
in the night the