a. Shamefastness and meekness become a maid, and when
thou knowest more thou 'lt say less."

"Thanks, Mistress White, I will try to profit by your discourse,"
replied Priscilla demurely; but her tone did not satisfy the matron, who
sharply rejoined,--

"See that thou do, Mistress Malapert, or I'll ask the elder to deal with
thee. Here he is now."

And, in fact, Elder Brewster, who had caught the tone of Mistress
White's voice, drew near to the group, saying pleasantly, "A goodly
sight yonder, is it not? And how well our strong fellows set their
shoulders to the toil! What shall we call the pinnace when she is
launched, Mistress White?"

"Methinks Discretion would be a good name, Elder," replied the lady with
a glance at the two girls. "Surely, we have room for it in our company."

"Truth, my daughter, and yet to my mind Charity is a sweeter name, and
one more likely to float us over troubled waters." And the elder's
pleasant smile disarmed his words of all sting. "Priscilla," continued
he, turning to the girl, "I hear that thy father keeps his bed to-day,
and thy mother is but poorly."

"Indeed, sir, they are both in evil case," replied Priscilla sadly.
"Neither of them has stomach for such food as is at hand, and so they
weaken daily. John Alden shot some little birds yesterday, and I made
broth of them, but, saving that, my mother has taken no meat for days."

"I will go and visit them," said the elder, and forgetting the launch he
had come up to see, he went at once.

"See! See! There she goes!" cried Elizabeth Tilley, as the great boat
slid gracefully down her ways to the water, dipped her bows deeply, and
finding her level rode upon an even keel.

"There she goes!" echoed Constance Hopkins and Remember Allerton, who
with Elizabeth Tilley constituted what may be called the rosebud
division of the Pilgrim girls, all glowing in the freshness of early
youth, all comely, strong, and vivacious. Priscilla Molines and Mary
Chilton with Desire Minter, a distant relative and charge of Governor
Carver's, made another little group of older girls, and then came the
young matrons of whom there were many, while Mistress Brewster in the
dignity of middle life was the recognized head and guide of all.

"Yes, there she goes," cried Priscilla, clapping her hands and dancing
upon her slender feet. "And Mary," continued she, dropping her voice to
a whisper, "it was Captain Standish who gave that last mighty shove"--

"Nay,