The King's Daughters Part 29

"Now, Jack Tyler, if thou dost not want to be carried to thy father by the scuff of thy neck, like a cat, and well thrashed to end with, let that lad alone.--Will, where's thy sister?"

Little Will, who looked rather sheepish, said,--

"Over there."

"Where's _there_?"

"On the stile. She's always there when we're out, except she's looking after me."

"Thou lackest looking after."

"Philip Tye said he'd see to me: and then he went off with Jem Morris, bird-nesting."

"Cruel lads! well, you're a proper lot! It'd do you good, and me too, to give you a caning all round. I shall have to let be to-night, for I want to find Cicely."

"Well, you'll see her o' top o' the stile."

Little Will turned back to his absorbing amus.e.m.e.nt of bulrush-plaiting, and Mrs Wade went up to the stile which led to the way over the fields towards Colchester. As she came near, sheltered by the hedge, she heard a little voice.

"Yea, though I walk in vale of death, Yet will I fear no ill: Thy rod, Thy staff, doth comfort me, And Thou art with me still."

Mrs Wade crept softly along till she could see through the hedge. The stile was a stone one, with steps on each side, such as may still be seen in the north of England: and on the top step sat Cissy, resting her head upon her hand, and looking earnestly in the direction of Colchester.

"What dost there, my dear heart?" Mrs Wade asked gently.

"I'm looking at Father," said Cissy, rather languidly. She spoke as if she were not well, and could not care much about anything.

"'Looking at Father'! What dost thou mean, my child?"

"Well, you see that belt of trees over yonder? When the sun shines, I can see All Hallows' tower stand up against it. You can't see it to-day: it does not shine; but it's there for all that. And Father's just behind in the Castle: so I haven't any better way to look at him.

Only G.o.d looks at him, you know; they can't bar Him out. So I come here, and look as far as I can, and talk to G.o.d about Father. I can't see Father, but he's there: and I can't see G.o.d, but He's there too: and He's got to see to Father now I can't."

The desolate tone of utter loneliness in the little voice touched Mrs Wade to the core of her great warm heart.

"My poor little Cicely!" she said. "Doth Ursula use thee well?"

"Yes, I suppose so," said Cissy, in a quiet matter-of-fact way; "only when I won't pray to her big image, she slaps me. But she can't make me do it. Father said not. It would never do for G.o.d to see us doing things Father forbade us, because he's shut up and can't come to us.

I'm not going to pray to that ugly thing: never! And if it was pretty, it wouldn't make any difference, when Father said not."

"No, dear heart, that were idolatry," said Mrs Wade.

"Yes, I know," replied Cissy: "Father said so. But Ursula says the Black Sisters will make me, or they'll put me in the well. I do hope G.o.d will keep away the Black Sisters. I ask Him every day, when I've done talking about Father. I shouldn't like them to put me in the well!" and she shuddered. Evidently Ursula had frightened her very much with some story about this. "But G.o.d would be there, in the well, wouldn't He? They won't make me do it when Father said not!"

CHAPTER THIRTY ONE.

SUMPTUOUS APARTMENTS.

"Well, be sure! who ever saw such a lad? Sent out to play at four o'

the clock, and all o'er mud at five! Where hast thou been, Will? Speak the truth, now!"

"Been down by the brook rush-plaiting," said little Will, looking as if his mind were not quite made up whether to cry or to be sulky.

"The mischievousness of lads! Didn't I tell thee to mind and keep thy clothes clean?"

"You're always after clothes! How could I plait rushes and keep 'em clean?"

"And who told you to plait rushes, Master Impudence? Take that."

_That_ was a sound box on the ear which Ursula delivered by way of ill.u.s.tration to her remarks. "What's become o' Phil Tye? I thought he was going to look after thee."

"Well, he did, a bit: then he and Jem Morris went off bird-nesting."

"I'll give it him when I see him! Where's Cicely?"

"She's somewhere," said Will, looking round the cottage, as if he expected to see her in some corner.

"I reckon I could have told thee so much. Did Mistress Wade find you?"

"She was down at the brook: but she went after Cis."

"Well, thou'lt have to go to bed first thing, for them clothes must be washed."

Will broke into a howl. "It isn't bed-time nor it isn't washing-day!"

"It's bed-time when thou'rt bidden to go. As to washing-day, it's always washing-day where thou art. Never was such a boy, I do believe, for getting into the mud. Thou'rt worser ten times o'er than thou wert.

I do wish lads 'd stop babes till they're men, that one could tuck 'em in the cradle and leave 'em! There's never a bit of peace! I would the Black Ladies 'd come for you. I shall be mighty thankful when they do, be sure."

"Mistress Wade 'll have us," suggested Master William, briskly, looking up at Ursula.

"Hold that pert tongue o' thine! Mistress Wade's not like to have you.

You're in my care, and I've no leave to deliver you to any save the Black Ladies."

"Well! I wouldn't mind camping out a bit, if you're so set to be rid of us," said Will, reflectively. "There's a blanket you've got rolled up in the loft, that 'd make a tent, and we could cut down poles, if you'll lend us an axe; and--"

"You cut down poles! Marry come up! You're not about to have any of my blankets, nor my axes neither."

"It wouldn't be so bad," Will went on, still in a meditative key, "only for dinner. I don't see where we should get that."

"I see that you're off to bed this minute, and don't go maundering about tents and axes. You cut down poles! you'd cut your fingers off, more like. Now then, be off to the loft! Not another word! March!"

Just as Ursula was sweeping Will upstairs before her, a rap came on the door.

"There! didn't I say a body never had a bit of peace?--Go on, Will, and get to bed; and mind thou leaves them dirty clothes on the floor by theirselves: don't go to dirt everything in the room with 'em.--Walk in, Mistress Wade! So you found Cis?"

"Ay, I found her," said the landlady, as she and Cissy came in together.

"Cis, do thou go up, maid, and see to Will a bit. He's come in all o'er mud and mire, and I sent him up to bed, but there's no trusting him to go. See he does, prithee, and cast his clothes into the tub yonder, there's a good maid."