the simple."

Very few bishops then living would have taken any notice of the humble
foster-sister who lived in that tiny house, and worked: for her living--
she and her daughter being both widows, and the child dependent on them.
It was hard work then, as now, for such people to get along. It is
often really harder for them than for the very poor.

The guests being now come, Agnes dished up the four-hours--if that can
be called dishing up when there were no dishes! She lifted a great pan
off the hook where it hung over the fire--for it must be remembered
there were no bars, and pans had to be hung over the fire by a handle
like that of a kettle--and poured out into the bowl a quantity of soup.
She then served out a cake of white bread to the Bishop--a rare dainty--
black bread to the chaplain and her mother, and hard oat-cake for
herself and Avice. They then began to eat, after the Bishop had made
the sign of the crossover the bowl, which answered to saying grace; all
the spoons going into the one bowl, the Bishop being respectfully
allowed to help himself first.

"And how goes it now with thee, my sister Muriel?" asked the Bishop.

The Grandmother gave a little shake of her head, though she answered
cheerfully enough.

"Things go pretty well, holy Father, I thank you. Work is off and on,
as it may be; but we manage to keep a roof over our heads, as you see,
and we can even find a bowl of broth and a wheat-cake for our friends.
The Lord be praised for all His mercies!"

"Well said, my sister. And what do you intend to make of your little
maid here?"

"Marry, I intend to make a good worker of her," said Agnes in her turn,
"and not an idle giggling good-for-nought, as most of the lasses be.
She shall spin, and weave, and card, and sew, and scour, and wash, and
bake, and brew, and churn, and cook, and not let the grass grow under
her feet, or else I'll see!"

"Truly a goodly list of duties for one maid," replied the Bishop, with a
smile. "And yet, good Agnes, I am about to ask if thou canst find room
for another on the top of them."

"Verily, holy Father, I am she that should work my fingers to the bone
to pleasure you," was the hearty answer.

"I thank thee, good my daughter. How shouldst thou like to go to
London?"

"To London, Father!" And Agnes's eyes grew as round as shillings.

To go to London was then looked on as a very serious matter. People
made their wills before they started. And to ig